Perfect World
by Mediancat
Summary: In 2020, eleven people are called together by a mysterious stranger.


SUMMERS' GAMES  
  
By Cale Benjamin  
  
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA: Buffy Summers stands behind Tamara Ellis. "No, no," she says. "You have to balance yourself properly. Throw your weight forward too much and you'll fall over." She adjusts the student's position slightly and then moves back. "Nice," she says.  
  
To me, she says, "You know how it is. Especially these days, with as many women as get attacked, we have to be able to take care of themselves."  
  
She moves aside and lets the class' normal teacher take over. "We've got a half dozen of these around the continent," she says. (By these she means the SUMMERS DOJOs.) "And - here's a secret - our first international one's opening later this year in Mexico City." Mexico City - the site of one of her seven gold medals. (One of the two in judo.)  
  
She doesn't look thirty-nine. Every article about Buffy Summers mentions this. It's required by law. What they don't mention is that she doesn't even look TWENTY-nine. If you didn't know she'd been in 9 Olympics (soon to be 10), if you didn't know she'd won ten LPGA majors, if you didn't know she was born in 1981, you'd probably assume she was old enough to be her own daughter.  
  
"Good genes, I suppose," she says.  
  
But your parents don't look fifteen years younger than they're supposed to . . . do they?  
  
"No, but they're in good health, knock wood," she answers. "So I give them the credit. I mean, how else do you explain it? Do I look like I was sent here from Krypton?"  
  
February 8, 2020  
  
He walked into the reception room. There were a half dozen people there, milling around, drinking sodas and chatting. Wait. Was that --  
  
He tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Cordy?" he said.  
  
She spun around. "Yes - my god. Xander!" She smiled - a genuine smile, apparently, and she gave him a big hug. After they broke the clench, she said, "What have you been doing for the last - god, twenty years?"  
  
Xander laughed. "Guess a big star like you doesn't read much science fiction . . . just finished my sixth novel and sent it off."  
  
"That's right," Cordelia said. "One of them was made into that movie a couple years back, Head Games, right? They tried to get me to play the female lead, what was her name, Jade, Ruby . . ."  
  
"Amber," Xander said. "Amber Ferragamo. You would have been perfect for the role."  
  
"Well, yeah," Cordelia said. "But I was tied up with that damn action flick back then and the director wouldn't let me out." That damn action flick, in fact, had grossed hundreds of millions of dollars worldwide, but it hadn't actually required much acting ability. Or a plot that made sense.  
  
"You always wanted to be a star," Xander said.  
  
"Olay, now that we're done being nice to each other," Cordelia said seriously, "Do you have any idea why we're here? I mean, look at this crowd." The crowd so far was the two of them, a balding man wearing an army uniform --- his rank marked him as a colonel - a pretty, studious-looking woman in her mid-40s, a blonde woman with a serene smile wearing a long, flowing robe, a tweed-garbed Englishman who looked to be around fifty, and a nervous-looking guy who honestly looked like he belonged more at a race track than at a reception. Right then another woman walked in - Xander recognized her. "You see that woman that just walked in?" he asked Cordy. "Isn't that Buffy Summers?"  
  
Cordelia spun. "The greatest female athlete of all time?" She looked at the door. "Wow. That is her." Buffy Summers was a legend; she'd participated in every Olympics since the 1998 Winter Games, and she'd won over ten gold medals. In her off years, she played pro golf. The upcoming summer games in Toronto would be her tenth and last; she'd announced her retirement. "What do you suppose she's doing here?"  
  
"Probably got an invitation," Xander said. "You did get an invitation, right?"  
  
"Got it right here." Xander looked at hers and then pulled out his own. They were identical except for the name. "I mean, I get life and death type messages every day," Cordelia said. "But this one seemed somehow - you know, real?"  
  
"I know," Xander said. "It was like I couldn't NOT come."  
  
Immediately following Buffy inside was a tall, well-build bald black man. Xander recognized him right off. "That's the activist, Charles Gunn," he said. "Activist, crusader -"  
  
"And one tough son of a bitch," Cordelia said admiringly. It wasn't an exaggeration; Mr. Gunn's crusade against poverty and class warfare - what he called the 'vampires' of the downtrodden - could be damned aggressive. It also tended to piss certain people off. A group of thugs had tried to beat him up about ten years ago; they'd had tire irons and baseball bats, he nothing but his fists, but by the time the police got there they were lying on the ground or had run away.  
  
He and Buffy had apparently met before, because they immediately began what looked to be an intense conversation. "You weren't given ANY other clues as to what it was about?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "No. None. Except -- my assistants usually handle the mail but this one got straight through to me. When I asked them about it they swore they'd never seen it."  
  
"It would have been kind of hard to miss," Xander commented. His letter, at least, had come in an oversized brown envelope, and the writing on the side had been calligraphy. Cordelia confirmed that her letter had looked the same. "Hmmm -" Xander began, only to be cut short when he saw the couple coming in the door. "Will! Oz! Over here!"  
  
Eyes turned to look at the shouter, but soon enough everyone was back on their own conversations. The people in question came over and hugs were exchanged, even with Cordelia.  
  
"What, no revival of the we hate Cordelia club?" Cordelia asked.  
  
Willow laughed. "Naah. Not yet. Give us time, though."  
  
"So, Oz, man . . . how's the latest album coming?"  
  
Oz nodded. "Pretty well, actually. Devon and I are stuck on this one song, but we've got a couple dozen others we're going to start whittling down soon. Should be in stores sometime in September."  
  
"Good to hear. And, you, Will -"  
  
But right then one final person entered and the door slammed closed. The man looked to be somewhere around sixty, with gray hair and glasses. Not many people wore glasses these days; that marked whoever this was as a thorough traditionalist. "May I have your attention, please?" he said in a surprisingly commanding British voice. "My name is Rupert Giles . . . and my guess is, you want to know why you came here tonight."  
  
Everyone turned to look at the man. "Got that right," Buffy Summers said. "I mean, a matter of life and death? What's that gig all about?"  
  
The other Englishman in the room said, "Quite right. I know . . . your employers, Mr. Giles, as they are my own. And they have informed me of no such -"  
  
"They would have no idea," Rupert Giles snapped. "They're a pack of idiots."  
  
The blonde woman said, calmly, "I believe you were asking why we had to come." She looked around the room. "Because I'm guessing that we all felt the same compulsion to come to this hotel in Los Angeles. Am I correct? This wasn't something any of us debated."  
  
Nods and general agreement all the way around the room. "I felt it too," the studious woman said. "I wasn't sure what it was, but I really didn't have a choice."  
  
"And why'd you suppose that is?" the nervous man asked with a slight Irish accent. "I mean, I felt it too, lass, but what on god's green earth would anyone need with the lot of us?"  
  
"This is going to require a leap of faith on all your parts," Rupert Giles said. "Because you're all needed to save the world."  
  
Part 2  
  
PRIESTESS ARRESTED  
  
WASHINGTON, DC (AP) Yesterday, after a protest on the mall turned violent when protestors and counter-demonstrators clashed, High Priestess Tara McClay and a dozen of her followers were arrested, along with eight counter- demonstrators. McClay quickly raised bail and, dressed in her traditional flowing robes, said, "This was all an error. My friends do not raise hands in violence against others."  
  
McClay is the best known witch in the United States; she is also a prominent member of the peace movement. She and her followers quickly made bail.  
  
Charles Gunn, the activist from California, added his voice to McClay's own, saying that he only wished he'd been closer, "Because I would've given those thugs a taste of their own medicine." While Gunn believes the coming war with Madagascar is unnecessary, is not himself a pacifist.  
  
Video of the event seemed to show that the demonstrators were indeed peacefully marching and holding signs when bottles and stones were thrown at them. DC Attorney General Richard Lopes simply said, "We are looking into the matter."  
  
McClay, 40, lives with her companion in Baltimore, MD.  
  
Buffy Summers was the first person to react. "You're a loon. I'm leaving."  
  
Gesturing, Rupert Giles said, "By all means, leave."  
  
She said, "Didn't need your permission, asshole," and walked towards the door.  
  
She never got there. She tried, but when she got within five steps of exit, she stopped. After moving back, she tried again, with the same result.  
  
She looked at Charles Gunn. "Gunn," she said. "Give it a whirl, would you?"  
  
"Sure thing," he said, but he also got nowhere. Then he circled around the room until he was flat against the wall and tried edging towards the door.  
  
Yet again, he couldn't get five steps away without stopping. "Okay," he said, looking at Mr. Giles. "What the hell's going on here? Why can't we split?"  
  
The studious woman got up and walked past Mr. Gunn. "This needs to be analyzed." Then she methodically began approaching the door from all angles. Then she walked to the windows, but did nothing except look out them. Then she said, "I can't leave through the windows either. And - I'm not sure, but I'd be willing to test it out - I bet if we tried to smash a hole in the ceiling or, or roof, then we wouldn't be able to do that either. Am I right?" She spoke with a slight, if distinct, Texas accent.  
  
Mr. Giles nodded. "Just so."  
  
"I'm guessing," Xander said, snapping his fingers, "That it has something to do with the invitations we all got." Everyone in the room turned to look at him. "We all got the same kind of invite, right? Fancy calligraphy, big brown envelope? And that compulsion we felt?"  
  
The colonel - Xander read his name as Finn - said, "Yes indeed. Job of work getting leave, too. But I knew I had to." Everyone else agreed with Colonel Finn.  
  
Xander said, "I'll bet it's the same thing keeping us in this room. What it is, I'm not sure -"  
  
"I am," the blonde woman said. "It's magic."  
  
"Magic is crap," Buffy said. Then she looked at the blonde and said, "No offense, Priestess."  
  
The Priestess smiled. "None taken. But, Ms. Summers, how else would you explain our inability to leave the room?"  
  
"Hypnosis. Fancy architecture. Force fields. Drugs in the soda. How the hell should I know?"  
  
"No such things as force fields, ma'am," Colonel Finn said. "Not scientific, anyway."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Ms. Summers said. "And how would YOU know, army brat?"  
  
"If they existed, the military would know of them."  
  
"Right," Cordelia said. "And the military NEVER makes mistakes." Mr. Gunn and the priestess looked at her and gave her a quick grin.  
  
The colonel looked like he was going to answer, but Mr. Giles said, "It WAS magic. Both on the envelopes and the room. Now if you'd sit down, I'll explain why. I promise. Then when I'm done, I promise that if you still want to leave, I'll let you go. I'm just hoping you won't want to." Dubious looks. "Take a vote, then. All in favor of staying?" He said it like he knew the outcome.  
  
First the Priestess raised her hand, saying "I would definitely like to know more."  
  
Then Willow and Oz raised theirs, Willow saying, "I'm always game for saving the world," and Oz adding, "Where Willow goes -"  
  
A half-second later, he was followed by the other Englishman. "I don't agree with Mr. Giles when he calls our employers idiots," he said. "But I know him well enough to give him the benefit of the doubt."  
  
The scientist said, "Sure, why not," and also voted yes. Assuming Giles wasn't voting himself, that was five out of eleven.  
  
Ms. Summers said, "Looks like you lose -" right as Xander, Cordelia and the nervous man all raised their hands simultaneously.  
  
"You were saying, Ms. Summers?" Mr. Giles said.  
  
"Fine," she said grumpily, sitting down. "But I still think you're out of your skull. All of you."  
  
Colonel Finn and Mr. Finn said at the same time, "Hey." Ms. Summers just smiled sheepishly.  
  
"The first thing we need to do is introduce ourselves. HONESTLY. Leave nothing back. My name, as I said, is Rupert Giles, and I work -  
  
"Mr. Giles -" the other Englishman said. "I feel it only fair to warn you that if you continue in this explanation I will be forced to report you -"  
  
"Report away," Mr. Giles said. "I'm past the point of caring. I work for an organization called The Watcher's Council. We are in charge of monitoring and controlling supernatural activity all over the world."  
  
"Super . . . natural activity?" Ms. Summers asked. She looked around to the rest of the room. "And you guys voted to hear him out."  
  
"I believe him," the Priestess said. "My name is Tara McClay. I am a witch." Then she gently threw her soda can into the air . . .  
  
And it floated there for a good thirty seconds.  
  
"Holy sh-" Xander said. "I didn't think -"  
  
"You didn't think I was a REAL witch," she said. "It's okay. Very few people do."  
  
"Well, since I just clumsily introduced myself," Xander said. "I guess I'm next. Xander Harris. I write science fiction." Then Cordelia, Willow and Oz introduced themselves.  
  
"Charles Gunn," the activist said. "Tell me something, Jeeves. Does this 'supernatural' include vampires?" Mr. Giles nodded. "Then yeah, I believe you. Most of the vampires I talk about fighting aren't real. Couple of them are."  
  
Colonel Finn said, "Riley Finn. Colonel, US Army. In charge of a special forces unit known as 'The Initiative.' I can't give the details."  
  
"Dr. Winifred Burkle," the studious woman said. "I'm a physicist."  
  
"I've heard of you," the other Englishman said. "I believe I know your work. You won the Nobel price for physics, right?"  
  
"Twice," Dr. Burkle said shyly.  
  
In a slightly better mood, he said, "I'm Wesley Wyndham-Price. I also work for the Watcher's Council."  
  
That left only Ms. Summers and the nervous man. Ms. Summers said, "Buffy Summers. And that's all you lunatics are getting from me."  
  
With everyone looking at him, the nervous man said, "Francis Allan Doyle. Schoolteacher. Occasional gambler."  
  
"And?" Mr. Giles prompted.  
  
"And, nothing," Mr. Doyle said.  
  
"Mr. Doyle, we all agreed to be open. Priestess McClay demonstrated her ability to cast spells. Mr. Gunn admitted he knew the existence of vampires."  
  
"Yeah, you did," he said. "I just can't let it slip. I've been hiding it for years. Only my wife knows." He took a breath. "I'm half demon."  
  
Mr. Gunn said, "Say what? And they let you around kids?"  
  
"Not all demons are evil," Mr. Wyndham-Price said.  
  
"Most are," Mr. Giles said. "Mr. Doyle, however, is not. Of that I can assure you."  
  
"Uh-huh." Mr. Gunn didn't seem convinced.  
  
"So," Willow said. "Now that we all know each other, what do we do?"  
  
"We're not QUITE all here," Mr. Giles said. "Stand back, if you would . . . back to the edge of the room . . ." then he began chanting.  
  
"What's going on?" Oz asked as everyone backed away.  
  
"Magic," Priestess McClay said.  
  
Mr. Giles finished the chant and threw a handful of dust on the floor. There was some light and smoke. Cordelia said, "Impressive pyrotechnics. Could've used this guy on my last picture."  
  
When the smoke cleared, Mr. Giles was standing next to a blonde man in a leather jacket, bound in chains heavy enough to hold back the Hulk. His face was horribly distorted -  
  
But then it became normal. In a Cockney accent, he said. "Well. Nice of you to bring me some snacks."  
  
"Ladies, gentlemen," Mr. Giles said. "Meet Spike."  
  
Part 3  
  
People Magazine, week of February 17, 2019  
  
The Dingoes, Dingoes Stomped Me Flat!, Reprise  
  
Who can tell there are only two original Dingoes left? I wasn't able to when I listened to their most recent release, and unless you're a fanatic, odds are you won't be able to either. Frontman Devon MacLeish's voice is as smooth as ever, and guitarist Oz's nimble fingers are still some of the best in the business.  
  
The retro-ballad "Phases," co-written by Oz and MacLeish, is one of the better songs, as is the far more up-tempo "What's my Line?" But the real stand-out of the album is the eight-minute final cut, Oz's "Graduation Day," which starts as a musing on the end of high school and moves - one could even say, graduates - into something far more profound, a song about lost innocence of all sorts. This is their best song since 2011's "Howling Wolf," or even 2007's "Rock God."  
  
None of the songs are real clunkers, although "Wild at Heart," a frantic song about an affair gone bad, doesn't live up to its potential, and "New Moon Rising," an homage to the decades-old CCR song, has an ending many will find unsatisfying (although I enjoyed it).  
  
This isn't their best- that remains, probably forever, their multi-platinum third disk, Dingoes Hit Me Hard! - but it's certainly a prime candidate for second.  
  
The Bottom Line: The Dingoes just keep stompin'.  
  
Pretty much everyone stayed by the side of the room; no one wanted to get to close to either the guy in the chains, or the guy who'd chained him up. Xander was on Ms. Summers' side in one respect: While he was pretty much convinced that something was going on, he wasn't so sure of Mr. Giles' sanity.  
  
"They're not snacks," Mr. Giles said.  
  
Spike snorted. "You chain a bloke up, drag him - where the hell are we, anyway?"  
  
"Los Angeles," Willow said. "I think the hotel's called the Hyperion."  
  
Spike grinned. "Thanks, Red. When I get out of these things, I'll eat you last."  
  
"You are not here to eat anyone," Giles said. "You are here because you have information we require."  
  
Mr. Gunn said, "Hold on there. A vampire? You bring us a damn VAMPIRE?"  
  
"He's . . . necessary. He's also not the only one."  
  
"Necessary, how?" Colonel Finn said.  
  
"Necessary, how?" Spike echoed, then added, "He's not going to be happy, you know."  
  
Mr. Giles sighed. "Of course he is. That's the problem."  
  
Raising her hand, Dr. Burkle said "Excuse me, Mr. Giles? Who is this he? What are you talking about? I mean," she said, looking around the room. "I think I speak for everyone when I say I trust you that something's going wrong -"  
  
"Not me," Ms. Summers said. "I still think you're all insane."  
  
Cordelia turned to Xander and whispered, "I'm getting a little tired of her saying that. Why doesn't she believe what's going on?" She had a point; Ms. Summers was way past the point of normal stubborn. Even Mr. Gunn and Colonel Finn seemed to believe something was going on at this point."  
  
Dr. Burkle continued, "But, you know, if this were a math proof you'd be several steps short right now. If we're going to be saving the world and all, I'd at least like to know how and why."  
  
Mr. Giles said, "This is going to take some time."  
  
"Unless you end your spell," Mr. Doyle said, "We're not going anywhere. So it's seeming to be we've got nothing but time."  
  
"We're almost at the point of no return now -" Mr. Giles said. "But I suppose you're all right. It's just that the explanation's not likely to make sense to most of you."  
  
"What, you're not going to magically force us to believe you?" Ms. Summers asked acidly.  
  
"I need your full, willing, cooperation. All of you."  
  
"Yeah, like that's likely."  
  
And finally Cordelia had had enough. "You know what, Buffy Summers? You may be the greatest woman athlete who ever lived, but as far as I'm concerned you're nothing but an obnoxious shit. We all voted to listen to Mr. Giles. Now, he may SOUND like he's a few greens short of a salad, but seeing blondie over there beam in pretty much settled for me that something seriously twisted is going on here. So sit down and shut up so the rest of us can listen, okay? And keep your smartass comments to yourself."  
  
Ms. Summers walked across the room until she and Cordelia were face-to- face. "Or what, ACTRESS?" she said. "You're going to make me?"  
  
"Damn straight."  
  
For half a second it looked like it might actually devolve to a fistfight; but Priestess Tara said, "Peace. Peace. Peace." A wave of calmness spread throughout the room, and Cordelia and Ms. Summers both took a step back.  
  
Spike grumbled, "Sure, go ahead and break them up just when things were FINALLY going to get interesting around here." Everyone ignored him.  
  
As Mr. Gunn led Buffy to a seat across the room, Mr. Giles said, "If I may?"  
  
"Oh by all means," Ms. Summers said. "Go right ahead." Her politeness was exaggerated enough to obviously be sarcasm, but Cordelia had already made her point.  
  
"The first question I need to ask all of you," Mr. Giles said then, "Is: Are you happy? And I don't mean, right this second, or even for the past month or so. I mean your lives. Have they been happy?"  
  
Nods all the way around the room.  
  
"Now answer me this: Have you ever been miserable? I mean seriously miserable, not momentarily so. Have their been any tragic deaths in your lives? Are any of your parents criminals? Or your children? Have any of you suffered through painful divorces?"  
  
"I've been married twice, divorced twice," Cordelia said, "But I still get along great with my exes."  
  
"My parents died when I was three," Mr. Gunn said. "Never really knew them, though."  
  
Oz said, "Um, Dingoes has gotten a couple of bad reviews."  
  
Willow looked at him. "But you don't really care about critics, do you, sweetie." It wasn't a question.  
  
"No."  
  
"My father was a bastard," Mr. Doyle said. "But then, he was a demon."  
  
"As was mine," Mr. Wyndham-Price added. "But since I've been a member of the Council I've concluded that I care not a fig for his opinions."  
  
"No one else?" Mr. Giles asked. And no one else could. Xander thought over his own life. His father had been an alcoholic at one point, but when Xander was young he'd gotten counseling and recovered. He hadn't had the greatest parents in the world, but they hadn't been bad. And ever since - good relationships, a series of critical and financial successes . . . but really, nothing to complain about for more than a minute or so.  
  
"Just as I suspected," Mr. Giles went on. "But it's not merely that your lives have been happy." He pointed to each of them in turn. "Ms. Rosenberg is the chair of a Fortune 500 software company. Dr. Burkle has spent a lifetime in physics at the top of her field. Wesley has been one of the most successful Watchers in the last century, with a career rivaling my own. Priestess McClay has turned the country's attitude towards witches around, from amusement to tolerance to outright appreciation. Colonel Finn leads a military unit so elite that few people outside his chain of command have even heard of them. Mr. Gunn is the most important spokesperson the poor have had in half a century. Ms. Summers is the greatest female athlete of all time, and is using her fame to help women protect themselves against rape and assault - surely a necessity these days. Mr. Doyle has spent a lifetime teaching children who wanted to be taught in one of the few remaining good schools in the country. Ms. Chase is a four-time Emmy winner and a three-time Oscar winner, with an acting range that would have made Laurence Olivier weep. Mr. Osbourne is the lead guitarist for the greatest band since the Beatles. Mr. Harris has several critically acclaimed science fiction novels and has seen movies made out of half of his books. And even Spike here is the main enforcer of the most effective and deadly vampire leader in the last five hundred years."  
  
"Last five hundred?" Spike said. "Try millennium, idiot."  
  
But at that Mr. Giles smiled. "Millennium, then. As I said, it's not that your lives are happy; it's that your lives, with a few trivial exceptions, have been PERFECT."  
  
"So we got all the breaks," Mr. Gunn said. "So? Gotta be a few of us in the world."  
  
"But look AT the world," Mr. Giles said. "The United States' murder rate is at an all-time high and keeps climbing steadily. Ms. Rosenberg is the only chair of a company in the Fortune 20 that hasn't been arrested for fraud or embezzlement, or simply committed suicide, in the past ten years. The US is about to go war with Madagascar - its fifth such conflict in twenty years. Diseases are epidemic. Not only have we had several new and deadly strains of flu, not a single disease has been cured. And Australia . . ." He took off his glasses and wiped them.  
  
"The world sucks," Ms. Summers said. "What's that got to do with us?"  
  
"Everything," Mr. Giles said. "Fifteen beings are living in a perfect world. And it's because of us that the rest of humanity is living in hell."  
Part 4  
  
From Maxim Online, originally posted January 2019:  
  
GIRLS OF MAXIM: CORDELIA CHASE  
  
Where you've seen her: Where HAVEN'T you seen her? Starting with her Emmy- winning series Cordy! almost twenty years ago, there hasn't been a more famous actress, or one who captures our hearts (and other portions of our anatomy) more consistently.  
  
Charity Chase: "What's happened to Australia has been absolutely tragic. That's why I've organized all those benefits. I love helping people. I think it's the highest goal of being a human being: Be all you can be, and then help those who aren't."  
  
Ex-Husbands with Benefits: "People in Hollywood say they 'get along' with their ex-husbands, and most of the time that's crap, but I really do. They're smart and funny and we've helped each other in our careers. Plus, of course, there are . . . other benefits."  
  
GUYS, TAKE NOTE - never mind: "I'm not picky when it comes to men. Oh, wait - I don't mean that. I AM picky, but the guys I've been involved with have been all over the map. Younger, older, muscular studs, brains . . . of course, they have to have fashion sense."  
  
Does that mean you and I have a chance? (Sound of hysterical laughter)  
"Oh, great," Ms. Summers complained. "Now it's our fault."  
  
"I did include myself," Mr. Giles said mildly. "Besides, it's not our fault. We are the symptoms, not the disease."  
  
Colonel Finn said, "I'm still having a hard time getting from point A to point B here. How exactly are we the symptoms?"  
  
The Priestess said, "Magic."  
  
"Excuse me, Tara," Willow said. "But for those of us who don't normally play around much with magic as much as you, could you explain?"  
  
The Priestess smiled. "Sure, Willow," she said. "I don't know the details - that's up to Mr. Giles, obviously. But I'd say some spell was cast a while back ON all of us. And that the problems in the world are, um, the backwash of the spell." She looked at Mr. Giles. "How was that?"  
  
"Splendid."  
  
Mr. Wyndham-Price said, "But surely if there were some spell causing the world's difficulties the Council would know about it." He harrumphed. "I would know about it."  
  
"Not if you weren't specifically looking for it," Mr. Giles said. "And everything's that gone wrong in the last twenty years seems like a continuation of the previous twenty - perfectly natural, if horrifying. It wasn't until the Australian tragedy that I began to suspect something greater was at work and began looking for a pattern."  
  
Closing her eyes, the Priestess said, "Give me a moment, and, and please, try to remain silent and still." She held out her hands and said a couple of magic words - what, Xander couldn't remember if he'd tried. Ms. Summers rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything.  
  
After thirty seconds, Spike said, "Wait. Why I am I being quiet?" Mr. Giles pulled out a stake and mimed thrusting it towards Spike's heart. "Oh. Right."  
  
A bit later, the Priestess opened her eyes and said. "It's there. I can definitely feel it. There is a definite imbalance in the state of the universe. The spell is so powerful and subtle that I never would have thought to look for it if you hadn't told me, but - I assume you all know the concept of karma?" Everyone nodded. "Well, that's as good a word as any for what's uneven, though it's a lot more complex than that."  
  
"So what you're saying, lass," Mr. Doyle said, "Is that there's a limited supply of good fortune to go around, and with the thirteen of us it's like we're winning the lottery at everyone else's expense."  
  
"Basically, yes, but it's more like we've all been winning the lotto every year for eighteen years and, and sleeping with supermodels. Don't get me wrong -- it's not just good luck. Dr. Burkle didn't win her Nobel Prizes through chance. All the breaks, all the talent, all the charisma --- whatever it took to bring about our perfect worlds, we've gotten. We didn't get all of it, now, but with all we're getting there's not enough left to go around. Oh! And it's not thirteen of us."  
  
"It's fifteen," Mr. Giles said.  
  
"Plus there may have even been a couple of others. But they don't . . . they don't exist?"  
  
"Not very lucky," Oz said.  
  
The Priestess shrugged. "I can't figure that part out. I'm sorry. But I don't think that matters. Except, obviously, to them. But if we need to fix things, not to us."  
  
Cordelia said, "I've got it. We're going to use our good luck and help everyone else."  
  
Mr. Giles shook his head. "Would that it were that simple," he said.  
  
"I take it it's not going to be as easy as calling up the cosmic equivalent of Maaco?" Xander said.  
  
"Alas, Mr. Harris, it is we who must be the mechanics."  
  
Ms. Summers raised her hand. "Am I the only one -"  
  
"At this point, the answer to that question is probably yes," Mr. Giles said a bit irritably. "Whether we are lunatics, fools, or assholes, I think it's safe to assume that everyone else is more or less on board by this point. So yes, you're the only one." The subtext - not so sub - was "Sit down and shut up."  
  
"Actually," she said a little smugly, "What I was going to ask was, am I the only one who noticed that you said fifteen of us and there are only thirteen people here?" She looked over at Spike, "Okay, twelve people and one bloodsucking fiend?"  
  
"So you believe me now?"  
  
She sighed. "Yes. I believe you. I also believe you're evading the question. Who are the other two?"  
  
"The other two," Mr. Giles said. "Are our real problems." He wiped his glasses. "The first is well-known to the Watcher's Council. He goes by the name of Angelus. He was a bloodthirsty, murderous vampire, worse by far than most of his kind. Over a century ago, he was cursed by a tribe of Rom because he had murdered one of their children. It was the worst possible curse for a vampire: He regained his soul. As a consequence, he spent the next several decades brooding and feeling miserable. We on the Council had written him off as not being worth killing. This was our mistake."  
  
"This is why you never leave a live enemy behind if you can help it," Colonel Finn said. "Someone figured out how to reverse his curse."  
  
"That's what we thought, too," Mr. Giles said. "Until I began doing my research after Australia. Then I found out that at some point he'd simply become happy. No immediate cause; no spell, no counterspell I could readily detect. He'd just . . . become happy."  
  
Willow asked, "So what's wrong with a little happiness?"  
  
"For most of us, nothing," Mr. Giles said. "For Angelus - the only thing that would end the curse he was under was a moment of pure happiness. And he's been experiencing pure happiness now for over two decades. It was actually this discovery that led me to find the fifteen of us."  
  
"Angelus," Mr. Wyndham-Price said. "The same vampire lord who's bedeviling the Council at every turn? The Angelus who has had thousands of people killed and turned the whole of Europe into a place where people are afraid to walk outside at night? HE is part of this?"  
  
Mr. Giles said, "He is part. He is a large part."  
  
"Seen one vamp, you've seen 'em all," Mr. Gunn said.  
  
"Not like Angelus, you haven't. I know you've fought vampires, Mr. Gunn. Rank amateurs, all of them. Believe me when I tell you that you have NEVER run across a foe like Angelus before. Smart, deadly, vicious, and sadistic enough to make the most skilled torturer of medieval Europe blanch. The worst part is that he is not the deadliest enemy we have to face."  
  
"Not that I really want to know the answer to this," Xander said. "But who could possibly be worse?"  
  
"A demon," Mr. Giles said. "One four times Angelus' age, with a body count as far above his as his is above all of ours. The leader of the vengeance demons. Her name is Anyanka."  
Part 5  
  
From the Watcher's Diaries of Wesley Wyndham-Price, September 18, 2018:  
  
The Slayer candidates under my guidance continue to do swimmingly. My suggestion for supplementing their normal combat training with some Watcher- style schooling - enough to enable Slayers to function on their own for brief periods away from their Watchers - was met by some resistance from the Council at first, but after I demonstrated how well it would work they went along with my plan. I'm certain that my history in training Slayers - Slayers under my tutelage have destroyed The Master, Kakistos, a renegade sorcerer named Rack and reduced the influence of the foul being known only as The First - helped me win the day.  
  
I do continue to worry about Mr. Giles, though. As a Watcher, his career is second only to my own, and his history and tracking down and helping to destroy evil mystical artifacts and demons of all sorts is unparalleled. But for a couple of months now - ever since the Australian catastrophe - he has cloistered himself in his quarters, with rare forays to the outside world for supplies of various sorts. On the few occasions I've seen him, I've asked him what was wrong, and all he has said is that he is working on something that could conceivably involve the end of the world.  
  
"So why not ask the rest of the Council for assistance?" I asked.  
  
"Because they wouldn't understand," he said. When I continued to press him for details, he simply walked away. I do hope he hasn't gone insane; the loss of such a powerful mind would be a devastating blow to the Council, and the world at large for that matter.  
  
Still, apart from that things go well. My most recent trainee, a young Colombian woman named Beatriz, is showing remarkable aptitude in matters physical and scholastic. Perhaps she shall be the Slayer to finally reverse the growing influence of supernatural evil in the world . . .  
In a voice that was obviously straining to be casual, Mr. Wyndham-Price said, "Anyanka. Oh really."  
  
"Oh really," Mr. Giles confirmed.  
  
"Well then," Mr. Wyndham-Price continued. "That should be a piece of cake. After we're done, why don't we change the course of a few hurricanes? Dam up erupting volcanoes with some bricks and mortar? And then, assuming those haven't proved too terribly challenging, why don't we all fly off into space and extinguish the sun?"  
  
"So," Xander said, "I take it this isn't going to be easy?"  
  
Cordelia looked at him. "Now whatever gave you THAT idea?"  
  
Colonel Finn shrugged. "One demon's pretty much like another, in my experience. How tough could this Anyanka really be?"  
  
"Well," Mr. Giles said. "Mr. Wyndham-Price is exaggerating . . . but not by much. Anyanka will be difficult merely to track down, much less induce to cooperate."  
  
Spike said, "I know Angelus; been on his team ever since he got rid of that pesky soul. If this Anyanka's going to be harder to convince than him, you wankers might as well just shoot yourselves now and get it over with."  
  
"We don't need your pessimism, Spike," Mr. Giles said.  
  
"Well, why the bloody hell not?" the vampire said, chains clanking against the floor. "You've said nothing so far that makes me that you have a chance at pulling this off. And, honestly, as long as no one reaches for the nukes - no one else, that is - I don't give a flying fuck about everyone else's bad luck. Everything you've said makes me think that the bad guys are going to be winning a lot more than they'll lose. So changing it back isn't really on my list of things to do. And since you're going to need all of our WILLING cooperation and I sadly don't see Angelus doing anything more with you -" he looked at Buffy, Cordelia and Willow -- "with MOST of you than just ripping your heads off and drinking your blood, I doubt you're going to be able to pull whatever it is off."  
  
"Much as I hate to say it," Mr. Gunn said, "The vamp's got a point. I can see us killing this Angelus and Anyanka, but I can't see us convincing them to do anything but try to kill us back."  
  
Mr. Giles said, "I think you misunderstood what I meant when I said that I needed your full and willing cooperation. I didn't mean that in the context of a spell. Were that the case the world would indeed be doomed. What I meant was that, in order to have a chance of reversing whatever has happened, I need as many of you as possible willing and able to help. Incidentally, Spike, while nuclear weapons may not be the method of destruction of choice, if the world continues on this course an apocalypse is inevitable."  
  
Spike looked at him. "You're not shitting old Spike, are you?" The tone, Xander noticed, was half-mocking, but only half.  
  
"For whatever it's worth, I give you my word as a Watcher that I am indeed not shitting you. Without our intervention, whether it be magical, nuclear, biological or . . . like what happened to Australia, the world will indeed come to an end. Five years at the outside. Likely no more than two." Spike actually seemed to be taking Mr. Giles' words seriously.  
  
"I would appreciate being able to look at your notes," Mr. Wyndham-Price said. "Not that I don't believe you, but -"  
  
"But you want to double-check my logic. Understandable." He reached into a briefcase and handed the other Watcher a sheaf of papers and a book. "Priestess, if you would also like to inspect -"  
  
"Thank you," she said, her normally placid face looking a bit troubled "But I have my own methods. I'm already inclined to believe you."  
  
Mr. Doyle said, "The beautiful Ms. Chase suggested a bit earlier this evening that we all use our influence to help people. To change things. Could we save the world that way?"  
  
"No," Mr. Giles said. "A laudable goal, true; and in fact, that is what most of us are doing, in our way. Ms. Summers has her DOJOs; Mr. Doyle, you educate children; Mr. Gunn crusades on behalf of the poor and downtrodden. But haven't any of you noticed that despite whatever good you might have done there has been little if no ripple effect? Dr. Burkle's efforts in physics have won her two Nobel prizes, but they have been the only two real advances in the science in almost twenty years. The Priestess has made remarkable advances towards getting Wicca accepted by society, but more and more any whose faiths are not "mainstream" apart from Wicca are finding themselves increasingly isolated. And despite the efforts of those such as Colonel Finn, Mr. Wyndham-Price and myself, demonic and vampiric activity is at a five-hundred year high."  
  
"If not that way," Oz asked. "How?"  
  
Mr. Giles said, "This is part of the reason we need Anyanka here. As Mr. Wyndham-Price and the Priestess will soon confirm - I hope - this world we are in was brought into existence by a vengeance demon. Which one, I'm not certain, but -"  
  
"For the benefit of the supernaturally impaired," Ms. Summers said, "What exactly is a vengeance demon?"  
  
"A vengeance demon plays on the insecurities, angers and fears of others," Mr. Giles responded, "By talking to them during their miseries and then granting them wishes. Normally these wishes are nothing more than wishing someone dead, violently ill or turned into a small and disgusting animal." Xander shuddered. He really hoped he never ran into one of these demons. "In this case, the wish has been in effect for almost twenty years. Even their magic was never meant to bear under such a burden."  
  
"Why would someone make a wish like that?" Dr. Burkle asked. "Or grant it?"  
  
"Vengeance demons," Mr. Wyndham-Price said, "Are not heavily into long-term consequences. And, as Mr. Giles calculations seem correct, this wish may have grown so far beyond the original granter that even they might not be able to fix things."  
  
"So why do you need Angelus?" Spike asked. "Just find this Anyanka, beat her until she bleeds, and make her undo things." Everyone looked at him. "It usually works for me."  
  
"Rest assured, in this case, it wouldn't," Mr. Giles said. "And we need Angelus because he was one of the beings affected by the spell. Which is the other reason we need Anyanka. This is also her perfect world. When the spell is reversed - however we reverse it - we must ALL be here. Cooperative or not." He took a deep breath. "So, in case you were wondering why I all asked you here tonight . . ."  
  
Xander looked at Cordelia. "Field trip?"  
  
Cordelia nodded. "Field trip."  
  
Part 6  
  
From the Skeptical Inquirer, July/August 2017:  
  
WORLDS ENOUGH AND TIME  
  
Martin Cresham  
  
THE GEOGRAPHY OF ELSEWHERE. By Dr. Winifred Burkle. Almagest Books, Alexandria, VA. 2017. 389 pp. Cloth, $35  
  
We all remember it: Last year's press conference by Nobel-Prize winning physicist Winifred Burkle, where she'd claimed that she was going to produce proof that not only were there alternate dimensions (a colloquial term, but the one that caught the public imagination), not only were they inhabited, but she was going to produce an inhabitant.  
  
The scientific community at large was understandably skeptical. Despite Dr. Burkle's earlier successes, it seemed that in the manner of Linus Pauling she'd abandoned true science and gone headlong into the realm of pseudoscience. Certainly her work held some promise of a true science of "alternate worlds," but certainly it was far more likely that these worlds would contain no life at all . . .or certainly, nothing we could possibly communicate with.  
  
And then we met Krev'LornSwath.  
  
While understandably defusing to be dissected, the horned, green-skinned "Pylean" let doctors examine him, with the conclusion being that Dr. Burkle was likely due another Nobel Prize: in physics, if her theories were right, or in biology, if he'd somehow been genetically engineered. (But, as Dr. Burkle writes, who would genetically engineer a taste for karaoke?)  
  
As we all know, the first option held; Dr. Burkle created - CREATED - a gate directly in front of us, through which Krev'LornSwath stepped through.  
  
The Geography of Elsewhere is the story of how Dr. Burkle developed her gate, tested it, and met Krev'LornSwath. While at times the science can become heavy going for a layperson, there are other times where Dr. Burkle's tendency to ramble on about nearly irrelevant issues gets the better of her. Still, on the balance this reads as charming. An eminently worthwhile book, both for its look at Dr. Burkle's science and how she came to it.  
"What was that?" Mr. Giles said.  
  
"Cordy and I were just thinking that you're about to send us all on a field trip."  
  
"A field trip?" Mr. Doyle said. "I hope you all brought your permission slips."  
  
"Darn, and I left mine in my other suit," Ms. Summers said.  
  
"Ma'am, you're not wearing a suit." This from Colonel Finn.  
  
The one-liners flowed for a minute or so; amazingly, the tension that had settled over the room like a thick fog seemed to clear slightly with every joke. Xander thought he got that; they were all about to do something stupid and potentially suicidal, as near as he could tell, and the mood of the room had turned as serious as a cemetery. Anything that lightened it, however temporary, was good.  
  
"In any event," Mr. Giles said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the joking, "We're not all going on a field trip. Some of us are staying right here, although staying or going have equal potential to be . . . quite deadly."  
  
"So do we get to pick partners?" Xander asked, looking at Cordelia, who seemed willing.  
  
"I'm afraid not," Mr. Giles said. "Before she became the leader of the vengeance demons, Anyanka specialized in tormenting unfaithful men. She has been known, in the past, to brutally kill men who have summoned her."  
  
The Priestess said, "So, then, it would be Willow, and Ms. Summers, and Ms. Chase, and Dr. Burkle, and myself who would try to contact her. While the rest of you . . . try to somehow find Angelus?"  
  
"Right," Spike said sarcastically. "That'll work."  
  
"I've been researching this for years," Giles said. "I think I can find one vampire. Especially one who isn't taking any special pains to stay hidden."  
  
"Why not just hand out guns and order everyone to shoot themselves?" Spike said. "Because - and let's say you do have a bead on where Angelus and our gang of fangs is holing up - you blokes'll be dead before you take two steps. Sure, the crusader over there -"he pointed at Gunn - "might be able to hold out for a good thirty seconds, and army-boy a full minute before he gets his head handed to him. But the rest of you? Not a chance."  
  
"I should resent that," Xander aid. "And I would except for that you're probably right."  
  
Spike glared at Xander. "Not a chance, that is, unless I'm there with you."  
  
"I brought you here," Giles said, "Because we need you alive for whatever spell or ritual we do to counteract this. But if you think for one moment that I'm going to set you free so you can lead these men into a trap, you're mad."  
  
"What, do you think I WANT the world to come to an end?" Spike said.  
  
"It is a typical trait among your kind," Mr. Wyndham-Price said.  
  
"Well, not me," Spike said. "I LIKE this world. I like buffalo wings and the streets of London and wandering around Europe looking for something to kill. And the people. All the damned people. Walking blood banks, they are, the lot of them."  
  
"These are a few of my favorite things," Oz said. Dr, Burkle and Willow laughed.  
  
"How the hell am I going to enjoy them - any of them - if the world isn't here anymore?"  
  
Mr. Gunn said, "So what? Now all of a sudden you're going to switch sides? Why do I find myself not believing that?"  
  
"What sides? Angelus's having the time of his unlife right now. He might not mind bringing about the apocalypse himself but he's not going to be too bloody thrilled with watching someone else do the deed."  
  
Cordelia said, "Well, I don't trust him." Spike glared at her. "No offense."  
  
Gesturing at Willow with his head, Spike told Cordelia, "She's last. You're first."  
  
"We can," the Priestess said. "Trust him, I mean." She seemed certain.  
  
"What makes you say that?" Mr. Giles said.  
  
"Magic," she said. "While he was talking, I quietly cast a spell. To see if he was lying. He wasn't."  
  
"Hold on," Ms. Summers said. "How do I know the spell works? I mean, there's a big difference between floating a can of soda and reading someone's mind."  
  
No one said anything for a minute or so; then Dr. Burkle said. "Ask us all a question. See if she can tell which of us are lying."  
  
There were no objections, so the Priestess asked them all how old they were. After everyone answered, she pointed to Ms. Summers, Willow, Oz, Mr. Wyndham-Price and Mr. Doyle. "You were telling the truth," she said. "The rest of you were lying." She looked at Ms. Summers. "Good enough?"  
  
Ms. Summers nodded. "Good enough."  
  
"Right then," Spike said. "Well, now that we're in a believing mood, would one of you unlock these?" Noticing the distinct lack of enthusiasm for this action, Spike said, "Alright, I promise not to kill you horribly. Not even the actress. NOW will you get me out of these damned chains?"  
  
"One moment," Mr. Giles said. "What are you promising to do?"  
  
"I'm promising to get you and yours in for a chat with Angelus unmolested. I can't promise you he'll buy your story; hell, I can't even promise he'll listen more than five seconds. But I can get you in."  
  
"Fair enough." He bent down and within about thirty seconds the chains were in a pile on the floor. Despite his promise, everyone looked at him nervously. "Now," Mr. Giles said. "About our plans. Priestess, here is a ritual for summoning Anyanka." He handed her some papers. "Mr. Wyndham- Price, if you would stay with me so we can go over these notes and see if you can find something I've missed. I have a hotel room upstairs so we won't be targets to Anyanka's wrath. The rest of you, I have a teleportation spell that should be able to take you to Angelus' location, and hopefully back . . ."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Angel?"  
  
The vampire in question sat up in bed. Next to him, his girlfriend said, "Oh, go away, Dru."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Darla, but the dance floor's about to become more crowded and I thought you'd all want to know." Drusilla's face went pouty. "It's no fun when there are too many people out there. We keep bumping into them when we don't want to."  
  
"You're saying someone's coming?" Angelus asked.  
  
Drusilla draped herself around the bedpost at the foot of the bed. "They are. And they shouldn't be. They shouldn't be coming here, to break up my perfect world . . ."  
  
Part 7  
  
NEW EVIDENCE OF ALIENS ON EARTH!  
  
By Arna Marinovic - special to UFO Magazine, June 2016  
  
A recent report by Grayson Brand II, "Evidence of Aliens held captive in California," provides evidence that the US military, in flagrant contradiction to earlier reports, not only knows of the existence of aliens but is holding dozens of them in a secret underground base in a small town in California.  
  
Contrary to what many in the UFO community have believed for years, however, Brand proposes that the Roswell story was a deliberately laid-out hoax by the government, set up to draw our attention from the real work being done elsewhere. And according to him, it's worked spectacularly, as tidbits and non-credible "explanations" of the Roswell sightings have kept us riveted for nearly three quarters of a century.  
  
The existence of an army base in Sunnydale, California, is no secret; but this is a supply depot, and the soldiers largely stay on the base. For years, however, Brand says, there have been reports of shadowy figures wearing military uniforms, brandishing mysterious energy-weapons (samples of photographs made over the years by Sunnydale residents, over a hundred of which were lovingly collected by Brand, are on pp 26-27), and even occasional sightings of being with horns, green, red or severely wrinkled skin - presumably, Brand says, escapees being recaptured by the base.  
  
Brand's interview with the local army spokesperson, a Major Riley Finn, got him nowhere; Finn, while unfailingly polite, stonewalled every question Brand had about the alien sightings, and had glib if unconvincing explanations about "secret night maneuvers" to explain the photographs.  
  
But Finn's own career is equally as mysterious as the alien sightings; Brand's diligent research has uncovered years of alleged Special Forces activities. Odd for a man who, according to local records, has been living in Sunnydale for the last twenty years . . .  
"I still think I would have been of more use going to see Angelus," Wesley said.  
  
Giles pointed to first Wesley's graying hair and then his own. "Neither of us is as young as we used to be. I fear we are past our time of being useful in combat. Besides, Mr. Gunn and Colonel Finn both have years of experience doing it -"  
  
"And are five years younger than I. Hardly the difference between the egg and the chicken," Wesley said. "I have a lot of experience in interrogation -"  
  
"And should we catch Angelus and chain him to a wall, I won't hesitate to ask your help. But right now I need someone to go over my notes and try to catch whatever I may have missed. Despite Mr. Gunn and Colonel Finn's practical experience, they know little or nothing about the underlying magicks. And the priestess is necessary to summon Anyanka without benefit of having a scorned woman about."  
  
"But if she's the head of the vengeance demons - and what DID happen to D'Hoffryn? - then surely she would no longer be specializing -"  
  
"To the best of my knowledge, D'Hoffryn up simply vanished about seventeen years ago, without even the courtesy of providing a forwarding address. Anyanka did not inherit his abilities, merely his position."  
  
"That should make things a trifle easier," Wesley said.  
  
"Only if it comes to a physical confrontation," Giles said. "And I fervently hope it doesn't."  
  
"I agree. Now, where in your notes did you want me to look . . .?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
It had taken Mr. Giles about five minutes to explain the little teleportation amulet he'd given to Mr. Gunn, and how to invoke it in case things really went to hell on the other end. Then he and Mr. Wyndham-Price had gone upstairs with strict instructions for the five women to wait a few minutes before actually trying to summon the demon.  
  
Ms. Summers went off in a corner - sulking, meditating, whatever; Cordelia still didn't like her. Dr. Burkle was reading up on some notes that Mr. Giles had left behind, "Just to see if my specialty might be of any help. If we need a gate, I mean." Mr. Giles had said that he didn't see how, but it couldn't hurt for her to look. And Willow and the Priestess were sitting next to each other, talking and laughing like they'd known each other forever . . .  
  
And touching each other like they'd done more than know. Whatever; that wasn't Cordelia's business.  
  
Cordelia tapped the Priestess on the shoulder. "So, is this going to be hard?"  
  
The Priestess smiled. Cordelia envied her placidity; internally, Cordelia was freaking over the gigantic revelations that had come in, boom-boom- boom, as though Mr. Giles had been calmly reading a shopping list instead of destroying their lives. But it was Willow who answered, jerking back guiltily, "No! I mean, that's what Tara said -"  
  
"Look," Cordelia said. "I don't care whatever history you have -" score; even the Priestess' tranquility slipped a bit with that one. "I'm not going to go around blabbing. Besides, if Mr. Giles is right, whenever we get this done things are going to be mucho different, so I probably won't remember anyway."  
  
Having regained her composure, the Priestess said, "Yes and no. Actually, no and yes would be better."  
  
"No and yes what?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"To your question," the Priestess said. "No, the ritual of summoning Anyanka won't be hard. Yes, everything else about it will. I've never met Anyanka - she punishes unfaithful men, something I really don't have a problem with - but I've heard of her. And convincing her of what's going on before she decides to either, well, attack or simply vanish, that's going to be the hard part."  
  
"So what do we do if she attacks?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"I'm thinking we run," Dr. Burkle chimed in. "Give me a half hour and enough tools and I could probably come up with something that would knock out something twice her strength, but I'm not sure we have that."  
  
"She fights," Ms. Summers said, "We fight."  
  
"We fight," Cordelia said. "Maybe we die."  
  
Ms. Summers shook her head. "No. This is our perfect world, remember? I'm not saying we wouldn't get bumps and bruises, but how perfect would it be if we got disemboweled?"  
  
"Unless it was a perfect disemboweling," Willow said.  
  
The Priestess said, "An interesting point, Ms. Summers -"  
  
"Call me Buffy," she said. "You may as well at this point." Everyone else did the same; Dr. Burkle was called, a bit oddly, Fred.  
  
"Anyway, the problem is," Tara went on once everyone had introduced themselves, "That according to Mr. Giles this is Anyanka's perfect world as well. But, but let's not anticipate here. I think we should just get on with the summoning and play the situation as it lays. Are you with me?" Everyone nodded. "Good."  
  
The ritual itself wasn't particularly complex; as it happened, there wasn't anything for Buffy, Fred and Cordelia herself to do but stand around and look menacing - which Buffy could do and Cordelia could fake but which Fred seemed to be incapable of. Willow, though - "You had great magical potential, you know," Tara said.  
  
"So you keep telling me," Willow said. "But I've been happy with what I've been doing."  
  
The summoning ended, and then Anyanka came - all veiny and gross and red- eyed. "None of you," she said a bit testily, "Have been scorned by men recently." She looked at Tara. "Or ever. Do you know what I do when women call me for no reason?"  
  
"Reduce us to our component atoms through some kind of magic?" Fred asked.  
  
Anyanka looked at her. "No, but I'll remember that one. What I do is -"  
  
"We did call you for a reason. Just not the reason you're usually called for," Tara said.  
  
"What's the reason?" She shifted into a more human appearance.  
  
Tara explained it to her. After a couple of minutes, Anyanka interrupted her and said, "You!"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"No! All of you! You're why D'Hoffryn vanished! I could tell that it was some kind of wish, but I could never find out who'd asked it or why or what happened to him. Well, here you are. Tell me." When no one answered, she repeated it, "Tell me!"  
  
"We don't know," Tara said calmly.  
  
Anyanka looked around the room. "No. None of you would. You're not powerful enough to hold D'Hoffryn and I don't think any of you are smart enough to trick him."  
  
Tara then finished explaining what was going on. "Well," Anyanka said. "I'm not saying I'm not having fun with all the vengeance - I've had a lot of REALLY good ones in the last seventeen years -- but all this administration is getting on my nerves. I'm not cut out for it. So if this is supposed to be my perfect world then someone screwed up their wish."  
  
"Or maybe it was supposed to be your perfect world but whoever it was didn't factor in D'Hoffryn's not being around," Cordelia said.  
  
"Maybe. Anyway, you said you wanted my help. Right?" Everyone nodded. "Good. You have it. Maybe with my help you can actually find D'Hoffryn."  
  
"And maybe prevent the world from being destroyed?" Willow asked.  
  
Anyanka shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
Part 8  
  
SCANDAL-LESS  
  
Exclusive to Salon Online, May 2016  
  
Somehow, while everything else in the business world goes to hell around her, Willow Rosenberg manages to steer TechnoPagan on a steady, scandal- free course - but don't ask her how  
  
by E. J. Harding  
  
"I mean," Willow Rosenberg says, "I could go on about how I try to set an example, and work hard, and how I came into the business as a hacker and came up through the ranks - but there have to be other businesses whose CEOs and owners have done the same thing, right?"  
  
Unfortunately, she's wrong. TechnoPagan, founded ten years ago with funds raised by herself and her longtime companion Daniel "Oz" Osbourne of the rock band The Dingoes, stands out as having a CEO who is ethical, honest, compassionate, and a genius both financially and in her company's specialty. As R. J. Reynolds spirals into bankruptcy and Microsoft collapses under the weight of its lawsuits and ten of the other companies in the Fortune top 20 have executives who are under indictment for embezzling or fraud or unfair labor practices - TechnoPagan somehow manages to avoid all of this.  
  
And, according to everyone except the woman herself, Willow Rosenberg is the person responsible for this. The customer satisfaction level at Technopagan is a staggering 98.7% -- and most of those who aren't satisfied say it wasn't their fault, the product just hadn't been what they were looking for. TechnoPagan's stock continues to soar, the shareholders are deliriously happy, and the employees are almost as satisfied as the customers. TechnoPagan is one of the few companies expanding these days, and qualified people are fighting to get hired - in some cases, literally (see the story in this year's April 17 Los Angeles Times for the details on that bizarre little scenario).  
  
There hasn't been a hint of gossip surrounding the woman herself, either - she openly admits to her early days as a hacker, and unless you count those whispers about her relationship with High Priestess Tara McClay, there's no sign of any sexual peccadilloes.  
  
Oddly, this disappoints her a little. "I'd like to be known as a little naughty, sometimes," she says. "I guess that's not the best reputation for a CEO to have, but I think I could stand a few hints of a wild side."  
  
Hints? Willow Rosenberg could be caught in a foursome involving the Priestess, Cordelia Chase and the farm animal of your choice and she'd still be the Pollyanna of the Silicon Valley.  
  
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The teleportation amulet seemed fairly simple, but Mr. Giles insisted on giving everyone a full explanation - presumably, Xander guessed, because any one of them might have to press it in a screaming hurry. There were three devices; Colonel Finn had one, Mr. Gunn had one and Xander himself had one.  
  
Mr. Giles whispered something into Colonel Finn's ear, and then turned to Xander. "Mr. Harris," he said. "You will use yours to get you there; Mr. Gunn, you will use yours to return."  
  
"What about G. I Joe over there?" Mr. Doyle asked. "No offense, sir. Please don't blast me to smithereens with your laser gun."  
  
"Don't have a laser gun," Colonel Finn said. "Wish I did. I do have this, though." He pulled out a pistol. "Electroshock. Capable of taking down a charging rhino in five seconds. Or it would be, if rhinos weren't extinct. It knocks down vampires even faster."  
  
"You didn't happen to bring a whole case of those, didja?" Xander asked. The soldier said no.  
  
Mr. Gunn pulled out a pair of wicked-looking knives. "Don't need 'em  
  
"In any event, " Mr. Giles said. "Colonel Finn's amulet is just in case. Now, if you all know your instructions -"  
  
"Excuse me?!" Spike said. "Are you going to get me out of these bleeding chains or what? I've already given you my word -"  
  
"So you have," Mr. Giles said. And without another word he unlocked Spike.  
  
The vampire made a production of stretching. "Much better," he said. "Now then. Let's get about it, boys. Rah-rah. Time to save the bloody world."  
  
"Inspirational speeches? Not really your forte," Oz said.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Doesn't take much motivation to get vampires to kill. Kind of takes motivation to get them to stop, but where's the fun in that?"  
  
"If you're done -" Mr. Giles went over to give the women their instructions. Xander flashed Cordy a good luck sign; she returned it.  
  
Then he looked over at the rest of his group. "Well, I'm ready if you all are."  
  
No one objected. In the back of Xander's mind there'd been a wild hope that someone would burst out and yell that it was all a reality TV series - "It's the End of the World! Do You Feel Fine?" hosted by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen - but no such luck.  
  
"Okay then . . ." Xander touched the amulet and said, "Trasportili!"  
  
-- and suddenly they were all in the foyer of a huge mansion. The place looked like a combination of a brothel and a Victorian mansion, all designed by Anne Rice and abandoned twenty years ago. The floor was covered by an aging and slightly moldy rug; above them, in the darkness, there was a railed balcony. They took a minute or so just to get their bearings.  
  
There was no one there to greet them -  
  
"There wouldn't be," Spike explained. "This time of day everyone's likely in bed or holed up gnawin' on their evening kills."  
  
Right then the torches on the walls flared suddenly. Three figures stood on the second floor looking down at them: A blonde woman, a dark-haired woman, and a dark-haired man whom Xander took to be Angelus. He said, "Now normally you'd be right, Spike, but these are unusual circumstances." The three of them came down the stairs. The blonde just looked annoyed, but Angelus looked amused and the dark-haired woman gave new meaning to the word "inscrutable." "So, Spikey," Angelus said. "Introduce us to our noon meal."  
  
"Actually, mate," Spike said. "I think they might have something worth listening to. Something to do with the end of the world coming, and how we might be able to stop it. Made sense to me -- what is it, pet?"  
  
The dark-haired woman had said, "No, no, no," and after Spike asked his question added, "You're back to the nobility of it all again, and that's not how it should be, the perfection's being marred . . ."  
  
A bizarre minute passed while Spike held Dru; no one else moved or said anything. "The perfection of what, Dru?" Spike said eventually.  
  
"Don't ask," the blonde said. "She's been yammering on about how the 'perfection' is about to get screwed six ways from Sunday. Also said that you were bringing people back to ruin all our fun. Score one for the lunatic -" she looked over the five of them disdainfully. "Though from what I can tell this group couldn't ruin a church picnic."  
  
"We're more dangerous than we look," Mr. Gunn said.  
  
"You'd have to be."  
  
"Darla, enough," Angelus said, waving a hand. "Less talking, more killing. Everyone!" Suddenly the group was surrounded by a half dozen more vampires. Mr. Gunn drew his knives and Colonel Finn his pistol.  
  
Before any fighting started, though, Spike yelled, "Hold it! I promised these people I'd get you to give them a hearing. I'm no keener for the world to end than they are and there's some kind of spell -"  
  
"And you fell for it," Angelus said, shaking his head in mock pity. "Spikey, Spikey, what are we going to do with you?"  
  
"He's been a naughty boy," Dru said. "He must be disciplined. That'll show him not to try and bring down my perfect world." All this talk of perfection . . . this vampire knew something. Xander exchanged looks with Oz and Mr. Doyle; they'd caught it too.  
  
"I didn't fall for anything," Spike said. "I like the world the way it is."  
  
"But it won't be as it is," Dru said. "There won't be an all of us and you'll be with HER." Spike seemed stunned by her words.  
  
Angelus rolled his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting bored." He growled and leapt forwards, only to be brought down by a charge from Colonel Finn's taser pistol. The colonel then shot another two vampires before one jumped on him. A few feet away, Oz and Mr. Doyle were facing off against three more -  
  
They'd never fight their way out. "Don't bother with those knives, man!" Xander yelled at Mr. Gunn. "Just get us out of here!"  
  
Seconds later they were back in the hotel's conference room. The they, to his mild surprise, included Spike. Colonel Finn got up, no worse than scratched.  
  
The five women were standing there talking to another, unfamiliar woman; Xander guessed this was Anyanka.  
  
"No luck?" the Priestess said.  
  
"We had plenty of luck, lass," Mr. Doyle said. "But it was all the bad variety."  
  
"We were luckier," Cordelia said, pointing at the other woman. "Anyanka's actually willing to go along with - behind you!"  
  
Everyone whirled around. About ten feet away stood Angelus, Darla and Dru.  
  
Angelus was holding the third teleportation amulet and with an evil grin said, "Dropped something."  
  
Part 9  
  
Phone call recorded from Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia, to Nice, France, 0105 local time 17 June 2018  
  
"Angelus?"  
  
"Yeah. Spike. Where the hell are you?"  
  
"Down here in Australia. Damn middle of the continent. Dru went off one of her tangents again and I got dragged along for the ride. Said she had something to do down here. Disappeared for a couple of days."  
  
"Can't be too many places to hide out there in the middle of the desert."  
  
"You're telling me. Most of the time we've just killed passersby and holed up in their cars, but there've been a couple of days we've had to dodge around rocks."  
  
"Well, tell Dru her lunacy's over and that it's time for the two of you to haul ass back here. Some of the locals are getting a little too full of themselves and I could use your muscle."  
  
"No can do, mate; stuck here in Alice Springs. Whole place is quarantined."  
  
"So what? What do you care about quarantines?"  
  
"Since the local constabulary has shoot-on-sight orders for anyone trying to leave. I dunno about you, but I'm not find of picking my insides up off the street. We're officially incommunicado too. Hell, I had to lift the damn phone just to let you know what was what."  
  
"What is what? What the hell's going on down there?"  
  
"Beats me. People are dying every which way, and none of it's good. By which I mean I tried munching on a corpse and spent the next two days puking my guts out. The locals got no clue what it is, and the one local sorcerer Dru managed to track down couldn't figure it out either. Pity we had to kill the man, actually; he was the only man with brains I'd seen in days. Unfortunately, he was also the only one with a healthy blood supply."  
  
"It's not contagious, is it?"  
  
"Not to us; I don't even think it is a disease. Dru and me may have to wait 'til everyone else around here hits the pavement before we can finally get out of here. Least then, we'll have our choice of transports."  
  
"Unless the Australian army decides to burn the place down around you."  
  
"If that happens, they're dead. We got enough local muscle here to punch a hole through anything that isn't a nuclear bomb."  
  
"Better hope it doesn't come to that, then. See you when you get clear. Or should I say, if?"  
  
Transmission ends 0111 local time, Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia; all attempts to trace caller failed, This is the only known transmission from the origin point of the crisis which threatens all of Australia; this "Spike" may be the only being who can help us figure out what happened.  
  
God save us all if we can't find him.  
Somewhere, an alarm bell rang. Giles said, "It's time to go back now."  
  
"Already?" Wesley said. "But we've only been up here about ten minutes."  
  
"My apologies . . . it seems our teams either failed or succeeded more swiftly than I thought. Have you come up with anything?"  
  
"You mean, in my five minutes of intense, in-depth study?" Wesley asked sarcastically. "Well, I'm more convinced than ever that you're correct in the general cause -- but who would have wanted to do this to all of us? What do we have in common?"  
  
"That is the question of the day," Giles said. "I'm hoping that once we have all of the players here we should be able to -" the alarm bell changed tone. "Ah. It seems to have worked."  
  
"What seems to have worked?" Wesley asked. "And how will we get all the players here? Despite Spike's certainty, I doubt Angelus would be cooperative -"  
  
"I doubted it too," Giles said. "Now, come, before things get out of hand."  
  
They walked swiftly back towards the hotel's reception room.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Finn, you idiot," Mr. Gunn said -  
  
"Now, now," Angelus said. "There's no need to assign blame. Well, actually, there's no time, what with the dying you're all about to do." Spike, for his part, was backing away; Xander supposed it was a small blessing that the vampire had kept his word this long. Angelus, Darla and Dru came forward. Colonel Finn redrew his pistol, but Angelus tore it from his hands. "Nice weapon," he said. "Wonder if it'll work on people." He aimed it towards Dr. Burkle.  
  
"You're not going to find out," Colonel Finn said, and knocked the weapon from his hands. It skittered across the room.  
  
Angelus, though, couldn't chase after it, because suddenly he was fighting a pissed and experienced military man who'd spent his entire life fighting creatures exactly like him. Xander waited until the vampire's back was turned and jumped on it.  
  
This seemed to be the signal for hell to break loose. Dru yanked Xander off Angelus' back and said, "Naughty boy! Mustn't jump in between the two wolves!" She then threw him into the wall. Xander staggered, but to his astonishment he wasn't knocked out.  
  
People and vampires from all sides began to start fighting - chairs broke, tables broke, and it looked like maybe people would be next -- but before anyone could get seriously injured, rescue came from an unexpected place. Anyanka stormed across the room and began heaving people aside, left and right - she was pretty strong, Xander noted, reminding himself not to piss this cranky demon off - and ended up her mini-rampage by yanking Angelus and Colonel Finn apart.  
  
Angel growled. "Not a good time to play peacemaker, girl."  
  
Anyanka shifted into a demony form, veiny and red-eyed. "What do you think you're doing?" she said, matching his tone. "These people are the only ones who might be able to help me find D'Hoffryn." Xander noticed Dru's head shoot up at the mention of that name.  
  
Darla moved from where she'd been shoved earlier and stood next to him, fixing a glare of death on Anyanka - which the demon casually ignored.  
  
"Find who?" Angelus said, again growling.  
  
Anyanka matched him growl for growl, snarl for snarl. "D'Hoffryn, you simpleton. The leader of the vengeance demons. Or he will be, once I find him and what the hell are you crying about?"  
  
This last was directed at Dru, who was crying once again.  
  
"Oh!" Xander said, snapping his fingers. "She, she, she knows something!" Anyanka looked at him. So did everyone else.  
  
Darla said, "There's a first time for everything, I suppose," but no one paid any attention to her.  
  
"When we were in that mansion," Xander went on, "She was saying that this was a perfect world. But she wasn't the one we went there to find. That was Angelus - and we didn't really get a chance to explain things to him, what with him trying to kill us and all."  
  
The Priestess caught on. "So how could she have known unless she was part of bringing this curse on all of us?"  
  
"It wasn't a curse," Anyanka said absent-mindedly. "It was a wish." She walked over to Dru, picked her up, and began to shake her. "What do you know? Where's D'Hoffryn?"  
  
"Here now," Spike said, running over to try to pry the two apart. "I'm all in favor of the world not coming to an end but I didn't say you could beat up my girlfriend to get there."  
  
Anyanka continued to throttle Dru. "I don't care about the world coming to an end. All I care about is finding D'Hoffryn and this bitch knows where he is."  
  
Abruptly, Dru stopped whimpering. Gazing down at Anyanka, she said in a much calmer tone, "You're right. And I'm not going to tell. It's too big a rock for you to climb anyway. And you don't want to find D'Hoffryn; he's all of two minds about you and another you."  
  
Finally Spike worked his way between them and turned to Dru. "Love, listen," he said. "I know you know what's going on here. Why do you want the world to end?"  
  
"Better twenty years of happiness than a millennium of barking dogs and empty hearts," Dru said.  
  
Angelus, apparently feeling a bit ignored, said, "Would someone PLEASE tell me what's going on here?"  
  
A voice from the doorway said, "I'd be delighted to." Mr. Giles and Mr. Wyndham-Price came in. A couple of steps in, he muttered something and said, "Nicely done, Colonel Finn."  
  
Colonel Finn grinned and said. "Thank you, sir."  
  
Angelus said, "You dropped that amulet on purpose."  
  
"So I did."  
  
"And I must say," Mr. Giles said, "It worked even better than I would have anticipated. Not only is Angelus here, but so apparently is the source of our dilemma."  
  
"I will NOT ruin my world," Dru said,. "I've had my twenty years and if everyone else goes to hell I'll be waiting there to greet you." And before anyone could stop her, she grabbed one of the broken chairs and shoved the pointy end through her heart.  
  
She exploded into dust.  
  
"Well, shit," Ms. Summers said.  
  
An understatement, if Xander ever heard one.  
  
Part 10  
  
EXTERIOR SHOT: Mark Healy High School, Los Angeles, California. HOLD, zooming in slowly, while narrator (Melinda Miller) says:  
  
N: Healy High. By all appearances, a typical school; but Healy High doesn't have metal detectors, its average test scores have been rising, and its academic programs are as important to its students as the basketball team.  
  
What makes Healy High so different?  
  
(A SERIES OF QUICK CUTS) Students and faculty all saying the same name (choose a nice mixture of types): "Mr. Doyle."  
  
N: Allan Francis Doyle has been teaching here (CUT TO INTERNAL SHOT OF DOYLE CLASSROOM) at Healy High for twenty years. Here he is discussing the recent tragedy in Australia:  
  
Student: It started right outside Alice Springs . . . Ayers Rock, right?  
  
Mr. Doyle: Well, that's what the British colonists called it, lass. What was the natives' name . . . yes, Mr. Quinn?  
  
Student: But there aren't any natives any more.  
  
Mr. Doyle: There are . . . they just aren't living in Australia any more. But it's unfair to disqualify them as native Australians just because their home country's uninhabitable, now, isn't it, Ms. Glenn?  
  
(Sounds of classroom fade but remain in background) N: Mr. Doyle's students shine where many others fail. In his twenty years teaching, not a single student to pass through his classroom has failed to graduate, and most have gone on to graduate from college as well. And while he seems to capture his students' attention, they can't explain it either.  
  
(CUT TO OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL BUILDING) Student (Tamara Ellis): I don't know what it is. He makes it fun - he makes it challenging, but he makes it fun. It's something most of the other teachers around here don't get.  
  
N: Not only most of the other teachers at Healy High, but most throughout the country. But Mr. Doyle himself is quite modest:  
  
(CUT TO INTERIOR OF DOYLE HOME) Mr. Doyle: I've just been lucky enough to get the right students. Students like these, I'd almost pay to teach them rather than the other way around.  
  
N: Unlike many teachers, Mr. Doyle could afford it: He's also the author of a couple of very successful books on his adventures in gambling - and his wife, noted occult scholar Harriet Doyle, is well-off in her own right. But (CUT BACK TO CLASSROOM) you get the impression that Mr. Doyle is telling the absolute truth: Even without the money, he'd still be teaching.  
There were four beings in the room who didn't seem to share Ms. Summers' "Well, shit" mentality.  
  
Spike looked like he'd just been hit by a truck. He ran over to where Dru had killed herself - he'd been running as soon as she picked up the broken chair - and yelled out, "No!"  
  
Darla, clearly bored out of her skull despite the potential cataclysm, simply sighed and rolled her eyes.  
  
Anyanka looked around the room, in a worse mood than ever, and said, "Now who's going to tell me how to find D'Hoffryn?" She looked ready to pull people's limbs off until they told her. This was a demon on a mission.  
  
Finally, Angelus gaped for a second before fixing his sights on the man who a minute earlier had promised to explain things to him: Mr. Giles. He went across the room, picked the Watcher up while simultaneously shoving Mr. Wyndham-Price to the floor, and said, "Now here's how it's going to be. You're going to tell me what's going on. Then you're going to fix it. Or -"  
  
In a much calmer voice than Xander would have used, Giles answered, "Let me guess. Or you're going to kill me?"  
  
Angel shook his head for a second and then said, "Well, no, I'm going to kill you anyway. The question is whether I do it quickly or slowly." Mr. Wyndham-Price stood up, with the air of someone who'd been hurt but wasn't going to give the person who hurt them the satisfaction of knowing that.  
  
"Drop him," Willow said.  
  
"Or what, CEO?" Angelus sneered. "You'll sue me?"  
  
"No," Mr. Gunn said. "Or we'll kill you."  
  
Angelus made a production of looking around the room, then said, "Three vampires, a dozen humans, only two of whom pose any threat. I'm not liking your odds." Darla moved closer to Angelus, but Spike went nowhere, obviously still grieving over his girlfriend's impromptu suicide.  
  
Colonel Finn - who'd since retrieved his gun - said, "I do."  
  
Anyanka-who'd shifted back into her human guise - said, "I thought we'd established this. No killing anyone until I find out where D'Hoffryn is."  
  
"Drusilla's dead, simpleton," Darla said.  
  
"Yeah? You're still here. So's the Crying Man over there." Startled, Xander looked; Spike was indeed crying.  
  
Angelus laughed. "If you think Spike's going to help you after that -"  
  
"Don't see him leaping to your defense either, bucko," Ms. Summers said. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander noticed Willow, Oz and Mr. Doyle move in front of the Priestess, who seemed to be quietly muttering a spell.  
  
"He will," Angelus said confidently.  
  
"Don't bet on it," Spike rasped. "Either of you." But he didn't say anything else.  
  
This was a strange standoff, Xander thought.  
  
After about thirty seconds, Mr. Giles said, "Are you going to put me down or kill me?"  
  
"What's your rush?" Angelus asked, but his heart didn't seem to be completely in it. A strange calm descended on the room. "Oh hell," the vampire muttered. "I'd rather have answers than blood right now. But that can change. So I'd better like your explanation." Then he put Mr. Giles down.  
  
No fool, Mr. Giles got away from the vampire as quickly as he could. This put all the humans on one side of the room, Angelus and Darla on the other side, and Spike and an irritable Anyanka in the middle.  
  
Xander sidled over to the Priestess while Oz, Willow and Mr. Doyle walked away. "What did you do?" he asked.  
  
"The same peace spell I did earlier," she said. "I didn't know if it would work on him or not."  
  
"Nicely done," Cordelia said, walking over. "But just in case he breaks free, maybe you should let the spell go? I'd rather not have the good guys feeling all calm if fang-boy over there decides that maybe he's not feeling so peaceful after all."  
  
"Already done," the Priestess said.  
  
"So I put you down," Angelus said. "Explain. Now. Why did you feel like you needed to drag three vampires halfway around the world?" Anyanka groaned, but didn't say anything.  
  
Ten people began talking at once; Mr. Giles raised his voice and said, "I'll handle this." Then he gave Angelus and Darla the same pitch he'd given the rest of them earlier in the evening; with only a handful of interruptions from Angelus, it took a lot less time. Angelus, at least, seemed to be doing his best to pay attention; Darla looked like she would have rather been anywhere else.  
  
Xander wondered how her presence changed things. As near as he could tell, Darla wasn't one of the people given a perfect world by the wish.  
  
"I can see why you were concerned," Angelus said.  
  
"Dare we hope that means you'll cooperate?" Mr. Wyndham-Price asked.  
  
"Probably not," Angelus said. "But I can see why you were concerned."  
  
"World's going to end," Oz said.  
  
Angelus said, "Then I better go get a good seat."  
  
Anyanka, who was only a few feet from the smirking vampire, looked at Mr. Giles and asked, "Do we need him to cooperate?"  
  
"What? No; we just need him to be present."  
  
"Good." And with that word, she belted Angelus in the face as hard as she could. The vampire staggered, but didn't go down. He hit her back equally hard.  
  
Darla's face became vampiric, but Colonel Finn was ready for this, and shot her with an electrical charge that knocked her to the floor.  
  
The Priestess, grumbling, "Release the spell of peace. What's the worst that could happen?" leaned over and grabbed Willow's hands; then she floated Spike's chains, still lying on the floor from earlier in the evening, across the room.  
  
Unfortunately, Anyanka wasn't being cooperative, and Tara didn't have a clear shot until Ms. Summers raced over and tackled the demon. Anyanka was obviously pissed, but her anger diminished a bit when she saw the chains now fastening themselves around Angelus' ankles and wrists. The vampire struggled, but just like Spike, he couldn't break free.  
  
"Subtle," was Buffy's comment as she and Anyanka got up.  
  
"I don't do subtle. Subtle's for lesser beings. Like mortals."  
  
"So that solves one of our problems," Mr. Gunn said. "Still doesn't tell us where we need to go, though."  
  
"Never mind trying to figure it out," Spike said, sounding tired. "I know where Dru stashed your bloody D'Hoffryn."  
  
"Spike -" Angelus said.  
  
"Shut up," Spike said. "My world's already over. Dru's dead. Maybe if I help these people fix what's wrong I'll get her back." He looked at the group. "He's down in Australia. Place right outside Alice Springs. Locals called it Uluru, I think, but we always called it -"  
  
"Ayers Rock," Mr. Doyle said.  
  
Part 11  
  
GUNN SHOOTS OFF MOUTH  
  
June 10, 2019  
  
Column by Kendrick Talbot  
  
So Charles Gunn is at it again.  
  
The self-appointed patron saint of the poor and downtrodden is speaking up against the war in Madagascar, wondering "What good does it do the rest of us? What are we doing? Saving a bunch of lemurs?" Well, if Mr. Gunn can't understand the strategies of shipping lanes, it's not going to do me any good to explain it to him. In any event, the administration says we need to go into Madagascar, and that's good enough for me - as it should be for anyone who supports his President and his country.  
  
This is the same Charles Gunn, let me remind my readers, who just last year was in favor of wasting American's time and attention on New Zealand. Now, the Australian Tragedy was lamentable - no one who saw the pictures of the suffering residents and the chaos they went through, I think, will ever forget them - but it was not the responsibility of the American people to help New Zealand avoid the same fate.  
  
In fact, the President handled this one exactly correctly, not only by protecting American soldiers and lives by not placing them in danger, but by assuring that the rest of our lives would not follow by initiating the embargo against New Zealand citizens and goods that - as Mr. Gunn seems to have forgotten - the remainder of the world swiftly followed suit in joining.  
  
He has argued - along with the simpering "High Priestess" of peace, Tara McClay - that if the United States had welcomed in the New Zealanders, that the rest of the world would have done so as well. Unlikely. Far more likely, in fact, that we would have ourselves been the next to die. And while my heart goes out to the citizens of New Zealand, my brain is proud of our President for not letting his heart overrule his common sense.  
  
So, Mr. Gunn, you were wrong before, and you're wrong now. And it is imperative to remember that once the President actually initiates the upcoming conflict, that real Americans cease their dissenting ways. I seriously doubt that Mr. Gunn will be silent.  
  
He seems incapable of not shooting off his mouth.  
"Why do you think that, Spike?" Mr. Giles asked.  
  
"Because," the vampire said, standing up, "It fits. A couple of years ago, Dru and me, we were down in Alice Springs, and she said she had "something to do" - and it wasn't until she got back that all of the chaos started. And when she was talking to the vengeance demon over there, she told her it was too big a rock for her to climb. Two and two together means that whatever it is causing our perfect worlds is down there at Ayers Rock."  
  
"That's an awfully big leap there," Ms. Summers said.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Not if you know Drusilla, it isn't. Now what she was doing out on the rock that started this, I have no clue, but if you think it's a coincidence then you're a bigger idiot than I thought." Ms. Summers' eyes flared, but she didn't say anything.  
  
Mr. Wyndham-Price said, "Well, then. That does it, I suppose."  
  
"What do you mean?" Willow asked.  
  
"The entire non-demonic population of Australia and New Zealand," Mr. Wyndham-Price said, "Is deceased. If they could not survive the conditions at the heart of this conflagration, we certainly have no chance."  
  
"I'm not giving up," Anyanka said. "Not when I've come this close. And maybe those of you who are human would have a hard time surviving, but -" she shifted back into her demon form - "I'm not human. Plus, I can teleport."  
  
Mr. Giles said, "Anyanka, don't," but was too late, as she vanished . . .  
  
Only to reappear at the edge of the room a few seconds later. She spun around, gaze fixed on Giles, and said, "What happened?"  
  
"I have a spell set up," Mr. Giles said, "So no one can leave the room without my permission."  
  
Which explained, Xander thought, how they were able to teleport away earlier without smashing into the same magical barrier Anyanka apparently had. "Well, undo it," she said.  
  
"Not until we figure out how to best approach this," Mr. Giles said.  
  
"What's to approach? You go there, you'll die. Slowly. Painfully. Which is also how you'll die if you don't release the spell keeping me in this room."  
  
"Kind of sorry you helped them now, aren't you?" Angelus said.  
  
"Shut up, you," Anyanka said.  
  
"There still may be a way for us all to get there and fix the world," Mr. Giles said. "You've waited this long, certainly another few moments will do you no harm."  
  
"A few moments," Anyanka said. "Alright. But not more than that."  
  
"Mr. Giles," Mr. Wyndham-Price said. "A few moments or a few years, I'm not sure it's going to matter. If the best minds of the Watchers' Council couldn't penetrate the heart of the Australian continent for more than five minutes at a time, what makes you think this group - largely amateurs, no offense -"  
  
"None taken," Mr. Doyle said wryly. "I gave up my professional status years ago."  
  
"In any event, what makes you think this group stands a chance?"  
  
Mr. Giles took a deep breath. "Because we have a different aim than the Council did. They wished to survive."  
  
"And we don't?" Ms. Summers asked.  
  
"I think," Cordelia said, "I get it. This is all-or-nothing. We have to go in, free this DeHoffman -"  
  
"D'Hoffryn," half a dozen people interrupted.  
  
"Right. Anyway, that's assuming he even NEEDS to be freed - that this isn't just some way of him getting his jollies -"  
  
Anyanka said, "I can hear you." Cordelia seemed unimpressed. "And D'Hoffryn wouldn't do this. He's a vengeance demon, not an apocalypse demon. If he's on this Ayers Rock, then he's not there by choice." She frowned. "Though how a garden-variety vampire would have been able to trap D'Hoffryn, I don't know."  
  
"Dru could have done it. So could Angelus, for that matter. Me? I don't have the patience, and Darla over there-she's waking up, by the way, so you might want to give her another shot there, MacArthur - well, damn near everything bores her. But if you're asking me how, I have no clue."  
  
Colonel Finn shot Darla again; she sank back to the floor. Then he looked at Angelus. "Do you know?"  
  
"No clue," the vampire said. "Not that I'd tell you if I did." Colonel Finn looked meaningfully at his weapon, then down at Angelus. "Oh, now I'm completely convinced. I'll tell you everything. Please don't hurt me." The colonel snorted and holstered his weapon. Angelus just smirked.  
  
"As I was saying," Cordelia said glaring at everyone, "We have to go in and free this vengeance demon and then hope that we can persuade him to put things back the way they should be. 'cause if we don't, we're dead anyway." She looked at Mr. Giles. "Am I right?"  
  
"You have hit it exactly, Ms. Chase," Mr. Giles said.  
  
"No one told me this was going to be a suicide mission," Ms. Summers grumbled.  
  
"No one knew, Buffy," Mr. Gunn said. "Now, if you're all sure this is the way to go, I'm in -- but do we have any shot?"  
  
"We're not worried about getting out," Mr. Giles said. "Just getting in and staying in long enough to do something about it. Priestess?"  
  
The Priestess anticipated Mr. Giles' question. "I can set up a shield." She looked at Willow. "With help. Mr. Doyle?"  
  
"Yes?" the half-demon said, startled.  
  
"I could use your help, too. You're half-demon; you're more magical than anyone else here except for me and Willow."  
  
"I don't know," Mr. Doyle said. "I know more about heart surgery than magic."  
  
"I just need your potential, same as with Willow. I'll be the one casting the spell, but I don't know if I'll have the energy - I'm not even sure what I'll be protecting us against."  
  
Mr. Doyle said, "Then, sure. I'll do what I can."  
  
Mr. Giles said, "Well. If there are no other objections - shut up, Angelus - I'll prepare a couple of amulets, and we'll get going. If all goes well, within an hour this universe will be no more, and everything should be back the way it was intended."  
  
"And if it doesn't," Ms. Summers said. "We'll all be meeting Drusilla again a lot quicker than we thought."  
  
Part 12  
  
From the TOR Books catalog, April 2020  
  
For June Release  
  
The Land Down Under, by Xander Harris 447 pages  
  
Xander Harris, best known for his best-selling Amber Ferragamo series, takes an entirely different and more serious tack in his latest book, The Land Down Under. The space opera and complex politics have been replaced by a sobering alternate history with a simple, but meaningful twist: What if the United States and the rest of the world had helped New Zealand and Australia, rather than abandoning it? How could the evacuation of 75- million plus been handled - and what about those who still would have thought it a bad idea, so bad in fact that they would have been willing to kill for it?  
  
This is the story of two people: Colonel Thomas Thoreau is a professional soldier with twenty years in the service. It is he who will be at ground zero of the evacuations, making the life-or-death decisions. Vice President Elizabeth Corbett Chessler - newly appointed in the wake of the sudden death of John Truman - is on a different kind of front line, dealing with a skeptical press and hostile politicians, and plots of a darker sort . . . to ensure that the Australian refugees never reach America's shores.  
  
No mere work of wishful thinking, The Land Down Under deals with what could have happened - and probably, what should have happened.  
  
"Xander Harris has produced another masterpiece." - Siobhan Gillooley  
  
"Sad, troubling and powerful." - Locus  
  
"If only it HAD happened this way." -- Edward J. Kelly, Prime Minister of Australia-in-Exile  
Despite Ms. Summers' grumbling cynicism, she was cooperative. Pessimistic, but cooperative.  
  
"You can teleport," she alertly asked Anyanka. "Why can't you just take us all with you? Save us the effort?"  
  
"No riders," the vengeance demon said. "I'm lucky I don't show up naked." Since she was currently in her demon form, Xander wisely chose not to say what he was thinking, which was that they were ALL lucky.  
  
The Priestess and Mr. Wyndham-Price started to work up a suitable spell to protect them from - well, whatever it was they needed protection from. "The problem is," the Priestess said, "Is that I don't know exactly what the problem is. If you catch my meaning. We all know the symptoms, so I'm having to work from that." Then she got back to work.  
  
"Too bad that force fields don't actually exist, Colonel," Cordelia said.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I'm beginning to think maybe we should've worked a little harder on them and a little less on the new and exciting trigger guards."  
  
In the meantime, Mr. Giles and Dr. Burkle were working together on Dr. Burkle's specialty: gates. "I'm kind of not too familiar with helping people transfer between points in one reality," she said. "What about making a couple extra of those amulets?" Dr. Burkle asked Mr. Giles. "You never can have too many backup systems, you know."  
  
"That's what Wesley was referring to earlier," Mr. Giles said. "The Watcher's council used all traditional methods of teleportation and got no closer than twenty miles to Alice Springs. At one point, we even talked about trying to bring the Enterprise's transporters into existence somehow. Or the TARDIS. Wiser and . . . less geeky heads prevailed."  
  
Xander shrugged. "Those would have been my suggestions."  
  
This left not much for the rest of them to do, other than stand around guarding Angelus and making sure Darla didn't regain consciousness. They grumbled, they bucked themselves up, they tried not to think about the possibility of their impending deaths, but other than that there was nothing until --  
  
"I think we have the spell we need," Mr. Wyndham-Price said. "We'll just have to do the best we can when we get there. If any adjustments are necessary -"  
  
"I'll do my best," the Priestess said.  
  
"I also think we have the gate set up," Dr. Burkle said. "I'm as certain as I can be without doing weeks of experiments . . . do we have time for weeks of experiments?"  
  
Mr. Giles shook his head. "The sooner we go through, the better."  
  
Ms. Summers said, "What if we toss Darla through first and see if anything eats her?"  
  
Again Mr. Giles said no. "All that would do is tell us whether the other end was hostile, not whether we reached the right destination."  
  
"We don't need to panic about that," Dr. Burkle said. "I mean, statistically we should end up on or near Ayers Rock. I'd just rather raise that chance a little higher."  
  
"Maybe we don't have to," Willow said.  
  
"How do you mean?" Mr. Wyndham-Price asked.  
  
"Perfection," Willow said. "As far as we know, we still have perfect worlds. Would it be a perfect world if Fred's gate sent us to Challenger Deep? Or the Planet of the Apes?"  
  
Mr. Gunn said, "We messed up getting Angelus."  
  
Oz pointed to the chained vampire and said, "He's here."  
  
"Yeah," Angelus spat. "Things worked out PERFECTLY for me."  
  
This seemed to trouble Spike. Looking at Mr. Giles, he said, "What about that?"  
  
"Weight of numbers would be my guess," Mr. Giles said. "There were more of us wanting things to go in one way . . . perfectly . . .than there were wishing otherwise." He looked around the room. "No more questions, then?"  
  
"Just one," Ms. Summers said. "If we're not going to use Darla as bait, what are we going to do with her?"  
  
"Leave her here," was the Watcher's prompt reply. "If we take her with us, she'll only be a distraction. Should we succeed, it won't matter where she is . . . and should we fail, there will be far worse things for the world to be concerned with than a lone vampire." He looked at Anyanka. "Can you get there on your own?"  
  
"I should be able to," the demon said. "But I'm coming with you. While my form of teleportation is inherent and doubtless far superior to yours, why take any unnecessary risks? I don't want to see giant mutated kangaroos any more than you do."  
  
That was it; a few minutes later, there was a gateway in the middle of the room. It looked like the fabric of reality had developed a whirlpool. They all decided to jump in at the same time - so that the Priestess' spell could cover them all as the leapt.  
  
This left only the problem of who was going to carry Angelus, who showed every sign of intending to be as uncooperative as he possibly could. He lay there and smirked until Colonel Finn finally came over and kicked him to the edge of the gateway. "That way we don't need to worry that he'll squirm out of someone's grip at the wrong moment," the soldier explained.  
  
"I'll kill you for that," Angelus said.  
  
"Doubtful," was the colonel's response.  
  
"Okay now," Mr. Giles said. "On three, we jump. One. Two . . ."  
* * * * *  
  
Three.  
  
A multicolored fog and . . .  
  
Chaos.  
  
Heat and wind, fire and light, swirling designs and colors.  
  
Cold and fog, ice and darkness, radiating from everywhere and nowhere.  
  
Sounds loud and soft, shrill and soothing; a music just beyond understanding; smells powerful and subtle, metallic, tangy, musky, salty, all at once, separately and combined; the feel of warm skin and cool cloth, of sandpaper and hardwood.  
  
And no, no, no patterns at all.  
  
This was Australia?  
  
This was Ayers Rock?  
  
From somewhere near him Xander could feel something, someone - a hand on his arm. He didn't know who it was, but he was glad for the contact.  
  
C'mon, Priestess, where's that spell . . .  
  
And a voice cut through the chaos, but uncertainly, like a dull knife through tough steak. "Peace," it said. "Peace. Peace. PEACE!"  
  
And the chaos moved away. Not far away, but away enough that Xander could see his surroundings without fear of being driven insane. He looked to see whose hand was on his arm.  
  
It was Cordelia. Somehow, he should have guessed. A few feet away stood the Priestess, Willow clinging tightly to one hand, Mr. Doyle to the other.  
  
The sounds and sights, though less blinding and deafening, were still a chore to talk over. Giles shouted, "Are we all here?" They did a quick count, and yes, they were all there. "Priestess?"  
  
"Holding for now," she yelled back.  
  
Then Mr. Giles looked down at his feet. "I think," he said over the maelstrom, "that we were indeed on Uluru. Now we need to find D'Hoffryn -"  
  
"That might be a problem," Colonel Finn said. "I can't kick this vampire around forever."  
  
"You could always unchain me," Angelus said. "I promise I'll be good."  
  
Unexpectedly, Spike said, "Shut up," and picked the squirming vampire up. "Now listen, mate," he told Angelus. "We're on top of the biggest goddamn rock on the planet. Now if you squirm too hard, maybe I might drop you. Do you know how far it is to the bottom of this thing? And even if you survive, you'll be busted up and stuck in the middle of whatever hell it was we landed in. Do I make myself plain?"  
  
"You wouldn't risk it," Angelus said. "They need me."  
  
"Are you willing to bet your life?" They glared at each other for a near- eternity, until Angelus finally slumped and looked forward sullenly. "Right then. Let's find D'Hoffryn and fix this bloody universe already."  
  
It didn't take them nearly as long as they thought. Soon enough Anyanka pointed forward, saying "Look! There he is!"  
  
Sure enough, a short distance away stood a pale blue demon, maybe six and a half feet tall, with white horns. He was caught in some kind of spell effect . . . and a miniature whirlpool, similar to Dr. Burkle's gate, was right above him. Only this one seemed to be spewing energy out, rather than drawing it in.  
  
"There's the source of our chaos," Mr. Giles said.  
  
Anyanka reached forward to touch D'Hoffryn . . . and was jolted backwards almost ten feet by a bolt of red energy. Mr. Gunn caught her before she fell entirely out of Tara's zone of protection.  
  
Well. Now what?  
  
Part 13  
  
Time on: 8:02 PM Time off: 8:48 PM Rec Speed: SP Date: 1/14/03  
  
"By all rights," Declan grumbled, "We should be holding this in Arashmaharr. And why are you videotaping it?"  
  
"To prove to D'Hoffryn when he gets back what a good job we're doing," Anyanka said. "Is everyone here?"  
  
"All of us?" Halfrek said. "Sweetie, we're justice demons. Independence kind of goes with the territory. But we have you, and me, and Declan, and Ouaod'stogue, and Sanubius, and even Airiss - and he NEVER goes anywhere. I think this'll have to do for . . . what was it you called us here for?"  
  
Anyanka sighed. "You know why I called you here, Hallie. D'Hoffryn is missing!"  
  
Ouaod'stogue said, "Yeah? Really?"  
  
"Yes. Really," Anyanka said. "Where have you been? Never mind. Have any of you seen, heard from, or contacted D'Hoffryn in any way in the last month?"  
  
"He reviewed my performance in early December," Sanubius growled. "Told me I needed to stop specializing so much."  
  
"Well," Halfrek said, "You take vengeance on behalf of injured animals. Not that I have anything against fluffy b--, er, kitties, but not many of them can make wishes."  
  
"Maybe you should concentrate on parrots, man," Oaoud'stogue said.  
  
Anyanka snapped her fingers. "Focus!"  
  
Sanubius snorted and said, "I haven't seen him since."  
  
"I don't think anyone has, sweets," Airiss said. "I've had a couple of the boys who aren't here ask me where he was, and I've had to tell them he's a no-show."  
  
"So have I," Anyanka said. "This isn't like him."  
  
"How do we know he isn't dead?" Declan asked bluntly.  
  
"Because if there was someone that powerful out there, we'd all have heard about it by now," Halfrek said. "I know it's hard, but try to keep up."  
  
"I'm getting a little tired of you shooting your mouth every time we meet," Declan said.  
  
"Then try not to present such an easy target, sweetie," Halfrek said.  
  
Anyanka stepped between them. "Enough!" She yelled. "This isn't the time to fight. If the two of you want to beat each other senseless, do it later. Right now we need to settle what to do -"  
  
"What CAN we do?" Sanubius asked. "None of us are at his level."  
  
"I'll spread the word," Ouaod'Stogue said. "Maybe someone's seen or knows what happened. If they're out there, we'll find 'em. And then we'll turn 'em over to you, Anyanka. You're better at the whole torture and violence thing than I am."  
  
"Are you SURE you're a vengeance demon, hon?" Airiss asked.  
  
"In fact," Halfrek said. "Anyanka, honey - why don't you take charge? Just until we find him? Woody's right - you're better at figuring these things out. You've got persistence the rest of us don't -"  
  
"Okay," Anyanka said after a few seconds. "But this is only temporary. Until we find him. And we WILL find him. Got that?"  
  
"Got it," they all said.  
"Are you alright?" Mr. Gunn said as he helped Anyanka regain her balance.  
  
"Yes," she said. "It just . . . surprised me." She stood up and pulled away from Mr. Gunn's grip. Then she displayed the hand she'd tried to touch D'Hoffryn with. It was red, almost raw. "Hand hurts like hell. And I know if I can't touch him, none of you are going to come close."  
  
"And I can't do anything," the Priestess said. "I've got to keep the shield going."  
  
"And we don't have anyone else around who can cast a spell," Ms. Summers said. "Wonderful."  
  
Mr. Giles said, "We're not going to give up now. Not this close." Spike, meanwhile, apparently figuring they were going to be standing there awhile, put Angelus down.  
  
"Who, me?" Ms. Summers said. "Give up? Oh, heaven forbid I'm not right there killing myself with the rest of you." Bitching, Xander noticed, seemed to be her method of dealing with stress.  
  
Mr. Giles apparently hadn't noticed the same thing; he said, "Not now, Ms. Summers. Dr. Burkle?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What can you say about that gate above D'Hoffryn?"  
  
"It looks natural . . ." she began.  
  
The Priestess said, "It's not what's causing his protective aura, though. I think it was what was causing all the chaos . . . since it's within my shield, it's stopped."  
  
"Does that mean all we need to do is stand here?" Mr. Doyle said. "Save the world that way?" He grinned, but everyone could tell the grin was forced.  
  
"I, I don't think so," Dr. Burkle said. "If this gate is sending chaos out then right now it's backing up . . . eventually it'll have to come out. If that happens, we'd be better off elsewhere."  
  
"Well, that's comforting to hear," Angelus said. "Nowhere I'd rather be."  
  
"Several hundred feet at least," Spike said threateningly. Angelus just chuckled.  
  
Dr. Burkle continued, "Look at the air above D'Hoffryn, between him and the gate. See how it's shimmering?" Everyone nodded. "That's because, I think, it's been caused by whatever's keeping him here. Or maybe simply the fact that he IS here. But the gate's a symptom, not the disease."  
  
Xander said, "So let's make with the curing, then."  
  
"And how would you suggest we do that?" Mr. Wyndham-Price asked. "Would you have us all burned as badly as Anyanka?"  
  
Xander looked at Anyanka. "Wasn't until you touched him that you got hurt, right?"  
  
Anyanka said, "Yes. Are you blind?"  
  
Ignoring the scorn, Xander said, "Can't hurt to look at him." He walked up to D'Hoffryn, being very careful not to touch him. Mr. Giles, after a second, did the same.  
  
"Found it," Mr. Giles said a short while later.  
  
"Found what?" the Priestess asked.  
  
"Yeah," Xander said, seeing what Giles was talking about. "I don't think that was here when they got here." Between D'Hoffryn's feet - obscured unless you happened to see it from the right angle -- there was a small doll. When Xander looked, he could see the energy flowing from the doll. "Okay, we know the problem. What do we do about it?" He looked around. "I mean, reaching in's out, I don't see any heavy digging tools lying around, and unless the Priestess drops the shield, magic isn't an option. And - no offense, Dr. Burkle - I doubt your gates are quite that fine-tuned."  
  
"They're not," she said. "I mean, I could get rid of the doll, sure, but we'd lose D'Hoffryn along the way. That gate above D'Hoffryn's natural. I could never create something that tiny."  
  
"Why don't we throw Angelus at it?" Cordelia said. "Maybe if we get enough momentum we can knock D'Hoffryn free." The vampire growled.  
  
"No," Mr. Giles said. "We need him alive . . . and he'd likely just bounce off anyway."  
  
Obviously frustrated, Anyanka said, "What are you people doing?"  
  
"Trying to figure out how to free your boss," Oz said. "Any ideas?"  
  
"Are you all profoundly stupid?" She waved her necklace around. "I'm a VENGEANCE DEMON. One of you make a frigging wish already!"  
  
Angelus said, "I wish I weren't wearing these chains."  
  
"Nice try," Anyanka said.  
  
"Very well," Mr. Giles said slowly. "I wish I could reach through the doll's shield."  
  
"Thank you," Anyanka said, then shifted into her demon form and said, "Done."  
  
Hesitantly, Mr. Giles moved his hands towards the aura. Xander and Mr. Gunn moved to catch him - just in case.  
  
Fortunately, their services weren't necessary. Mr. Giles' hands passed through the barrier like it wasn't there. He grasped it with both hands and shattered it.  
  
The red glow vanished. "--ou doing!" D'Hoffryn said, then looked around. "Where is . . . Time has passed. How much?" Above D'Hoffryn, the gate also vanished.  
  
"A bit over seventeen years," Anyanka said.  
  
D'Hoffryn turned, apparently startled. "Anyanka! It is . . . good to see you." He gestured at everyone else. "And the rest of you. I take it my rescue was a group effort?"  
  
"We all helped," Xander said.  
  
Angelus spat, "I didn't."  
  
"Right. He didn't."  
  
"Well then," D'Hoffryn said sincerely. "Thanks. I had no idea I was even being held captive. And there's a vampire I need to punish -"  
  
"That vampire's dead," Spike said. "Killed herself to stop us from finding you." The pain was still obvious in his voice.  
  
D'Hoffryn looked around. "No one to take vengeance on? That is most disappointing." For the first time, he seemed to notice the chaos. "What HAS happened to this world?" Mr. Giles gave a quick explanation. "Well," he said. "With the gate gone, the chaos should end . . . and so your world will be safe."  
  
"Meaning no disrespect," Ms. Summers said, "Because you could probably kill me just by looking at me, but weren't you listening? The world's going to end because of this wish you granted. You need to cancel it toot-sweet."  
  
And D'Hoffryn said, "No."  
Part 14  
  
Watcher's Diary, Rupert Giles, final entry  
  
The invitations are out, the conference room is set, and I have all the components for the spells that will be necessary if this goes well.  
  
So why am I nervous?  
  
I suppose one reason is simply that things may NOT go well - that despite my laborious preparations and the mounting evidence, that one or more may write me off as a madman and refuse to cooperate under any circumstances. And the more people it's necessary to drag through this unwillingly, the more difficult it will be to convince the others.  
  
The risks to the world are too great. I cannot - I WILL not - let them leave. Even if it comes to clubbing them all over the head and doing everything myself.  
  
My somewhat irrational fears aside, I doubt that will be the case. Colonel Finn, Mr. Gunn and the Priestess have quite a bit of exposure to the supernatural - as does Wesley, of course. Mr. Harris is a science fiction writer, and my sources indicate that Ms. Rosenberg has quite a bit of interest in paganism, despite her Jewish faith.  
  
Astonishingly, it turns out that Buffy Summers was, at one point, a candidate to be Slayer, though this was not known to her at the time, nor indeed to the Council. Perhaps this should not be so astonishing, given her athletic feats, but I strongly doubt she has ever considered herself more than the most fortunate woman on the planet when it came to strength, resilience and athletic ability.  
  
There are many opportunities for failure, and many things that could go wrong, and only one slim chance of success. Still, that slim chance needs to be taken. If I tell the Council, they will bog down in endless debates, and meetings, and meetings about when to have meetings, until there is no chance whatever of saving the world, and little chance of saving more than a trivial number of the people on it. Curse bureaucracy; but even more, curse this spell of perfection encompassing me, Wesley and no one else on the Council.  
  
Still, once I finish this entry a copy of the most recent journal in my diary will go to one of them. Even that chance would be better than none at all.  
  
To that Watcher: I am not mad. Believe me. Believe that you only have this one chance to save the world, and DO it.  
  
Rupert St. Martin Giles, 6 February 2020  
"Excuse me?" Ms. Summers said.  
  
D'Hoffryn said evenly, "I don't see what was so difficult to comprehend about the word, but if you like I'll repeat it: No."  
  
On the surface of the rock, Angelus was laughing. He wouldn't stop, even when Spike kicked him, but finally he calmed down enough to say, "All that work and your poor precious world's still going to come to an end."  
  
"Your world's coming to an end, too," Colonel Finn said.  
  
Angelus said, "Well, yes, that is a drawback; but on balance I think I'll have more fun watching the rest of you squirm."  
  
"Why won't you reverse the wish?" Mr. Giles said.  
  
"A matter of policy," D'Hoffryn said. "I don't allow my demons to take back wishes, and now really, what kind of example would I set for them if I violated my own rules?"  
  
"Hold it," Xander said. "Hold it. We just saved your ass, buddy. You could've gone on your merry frozen way all the way to the end of the world, but we just unfroze you. Don't you think you owe us SOMETHING for our troubles?" D'Hoffryn thought for a moment. "Well?"  
  
"There is something to what you say," D'Hoffryn said. "I suppose I do owe all of you my life and my chance at escape, and so I will give you your chance to persuade me to reverse the wish."  
  
"A reasonable person might suggest your mind's already made up," Oz said, "And that there would be no point to making this argument."  
  
"Are you calling D'Hoffryn a liar?" Anyanka said angrily.  
  
Looking at her, as if recognizing who he was looking at for the first time, D'Hoffryn said, "Anyanka. Thank you for this . . . unexpected defense. It's good to see you . . . the way you are. But the young man's disbelief is entirely warranted." He looked out at the rest of them. "I give you my word that I will listen to your reasoning. To prove my good faith in this matter, I will do this." And the shield against the swirling and noisy background chaos suddenly expanded to twice its height and depth. "Easy, witch," he told the Priestess. "I have it now. You can relax."  
  
The Priestess sank to the ground, exhausted but conscious, and Willow and Doyle didn't look too good either. Colonel Finn and Dr. Burkle went over to make sure they were okay.  
  
"Of course," he went on, "I'm not saying your task will be easy. For one thing, in this place and time you're all so eager to get back to, two of you are dead."  
  
"Which two?" Mr. Gunn asked.  
  
"Two of you. One man, one woman. Souls where none previously existed." Spike and Angelus' heads shot up at this. "Also, many of you are unhappy, some very much so, and not a one of you can call him or herself utterly content with the way things are. There is pain, and misery, and things are far from perfect. Not like they are here."  
  
"That's the way life goes," Mr. Giles said. "Or at least, the way it's supposed to."  
  
"I think," the Priestess said, rising to her feet, "That we're all willing to make that sacrifice."  
  
"Even if you are one of the two to die?"  
  
"Even then," the Priestess said steadily.  
  
"So say you all?"  
  
Anyanka and Angelus said, "No," but they were drowned by a yes from the other members of the group. Including, Xander noticed, Spike.  
  
"Hmmm," D'Hoffryn said.  
  
Cordelia said abruptly, "Look. You said this world is perfect, for all of us, right?"  
  
"Um, Ms. Chase, that's what Mr. Giles has been telling us all evening," Mr. Wyndham-Price said.  
  
"Not you, nimrod," Cordelia said. "Well, demonboy?"  
  
"I did say that. That was the nature of the vampire's wish."  
  
"Exhibit A," she said. "Spike. The love of his life just killed herself a couple of hours ago. He's still hurting inside, we can all tell. How the hell is HIS world perfect?"  
  
"If this is perfection," Spike said. "Give me imperfection."  
  
"Despite this soul?" Spike didn't say anything. D'Hoffryn went on, "Never mind. Young lady, an Exhibit A implies an exhibit B."  
  
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" She took a deep breath, and Xander had no idea what she was about to say. Neither did anyone else, apparently. Then, to everyone's astonishment, she looked at Oz. "Is this your perfect world?"  
  
Oz said, "Yes. I make music that people like, and I'm in love with the most perfect woman on the planet - and she loves me back."  
  
Willow's eyes grew alarmed. "No," she said. "You can't. You promised."  
  
A bit confused, Oz said, "Willow? What is it?"  
  
"I know I promised," Cordelia said. "And I'm sorry. Oz: Willow and the Priestess are having an affair. Have been for years."  
  
"What?" Oz said. "No. Not Willow. She wouldn't." But one look at Willow's face said otherwise. "How . . ."  
  
"Give me a second," Cordelia said. "Willow. Now. Is being with Oz your perfect world?"  
  
"Um . . ."  
  
"This isn't the time to develop a stutter," Cordelia said.  
  
Willow looked at Oz, then the Priestess, then back at Oz. "I love Oz," she said.  
  
Angrily, Cordelia said, "Answer the God. Damned. Question."  
  
Quietly, Willow said, "No . . . I love him. I always have. But when I met Tara . . . it was just right, you know? Like WE'D been meant to be together. But I couldn't hurt Oz. So we kept our affair very quiet."  
  
Cordelia looked at D'Hoffryn. "You screwed up, bucko. You see, Oz's perfect world and Willow's are incompatible. For her world to be perfect, Willow had to be with Tara . . . but for Oz's world to be perfect, not only did he have to be with Willow, but he had to KNOW that when he was kissing Willow . . . she was kissing him back. And that's not the case anymore." By the end of it, Cordelia's voice was almost vicious. . Mr. Giles said, "A perfect world is just that: Perfect. It does not admit of flaws . . . and as of this moment Oz's world is as flawed as Spike's. And unlike Spike's, his was always so."  
  
"I don't make ironclad guarantees," D'Hoffryn said. "None of my charges do." Before anyone could speak - though Ms. Summers did throw up her hands in disgust - D'Hoffryn went on, "However. They are expected to grant the wishes requested . . . and it seems I did not do so."  
  
"So, reversal granted?" Mr. Giles asked.  
  
D'Hoffryn shrugged. "Madam," he said, addressing Cordelia, "You make me wish you were a demon. The way you ripped your friends' lives for a higher purpose - it was inspiring."  
  
"I do what I need to," Cordelia said. "Now, like the man asked. Reversal granted?"  
  
And D'Hoffryn said, "Yes."  
  
Part 15  
  
December 10, 2002, Uluru, AKA Ayers Rock, outside Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia  
  
"Your choice of a meeting place is . . . interesting."  
  
"It is, isn't it? I thought there'd be a gate to another dimension here, but that was just a comic book. I think I just like it because it's a big rock . . . and none of my friends have rocks this big."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're excused, but I don't believe you've done anything wrong."  
  
"You called me here, vampire. I assumed you wanted something."  
  
"I do. I do indeed. I want perfection. I want my life to be perfect, and everyone else's too."  
  
"I rarely grant wishes of my own . . . and even I couldn't grant a wish that vast. Besides, why would you want to make everyone's life better? What kind of vengeance is that?"  
  
"Not the six billion, you silly bandicoot, just the dozen or so who might want to change my perfection."  
  
"Because if their worlds are perfect, then they won't have any incentive to interfere in yours."  
  
"Yes, yes! Goody-goody, he's got it!"  
  
"I still don't understand how this is vengeance, exactly."  
  
"Because my Spike and my Angelus, they betrayed me . . . and now they'll have to be with me forever. I know about it, so it still counts."  
  
"Hmmm. I suppose it does."  
  
"And there's your poor little lost sheep who could be back in your fold . . ."  
  
"What's this about sheep?"  
  
"You'll understand in time . . . or maybe not . . . now, do I get things my way?"  
  
"Yes. Perfection for all, your vengeance is granted. Wait, what are y-"  
D'Hoffryn said, "The wish is undone."  
  
After about thirty seconds, when nothing had happened, Ms. Summers said, "Maybe you're broken?"  
  
"I am not broken," D'Hoffryn said. "But this world has been in existence for over seventeen years and as such, has developed something of a life of its own. It is not as simple as flipping off a light switch. Even for me." He looked towards the Priestess. "You may wish to extend your shield once again. All of my energies will be needed to try to reverse the wish."  
  
The Priestess nodded, shrugged off Willow and Mr. Doyle, and again took up protecting them from the chaos. D'Hoffryn closed his eyes and said, "The wish is undone. The wish is undone. The wish is undone!"  
  
There was . . . something. "Can you feel that?" Xander asked. Everyone nodded.  
  
Colonel Finn asked, "What is it? It felt like a train trying to jump a track."  
  
"It's reality trying to right itself," D'Hoffryn said. "It is straining even my abilities. And honestly, it's not worth the effort. If you want your reality restored - if you want to prevent the world from ending - one of you has to help me. Because while I agreed to do this, I didn't agree to do this at the cost of my total exhaustion. I can always go back to Arashmaharr." Anyanka stepped forward, and D'Hoffryn said, "Not you." She withdrew, hurt.  
  
As Angelus laughed, Dr. Burkle asked, "So what do you need?" There was a . . . roaring of some sort.  
  
"I need you to find something from that other world you remember. You had families. Lives. Jobs. Souls. Try and find something we can use as a guide to shift this universe back from what it is, to what it was."  
  
"You remember that old universe," Mr. Wyndham-Price said.  
  
"Yes," D'Hoffryn said. "I offered Ms. Rosenberg a job as a vengeance demon. Ms. Summers was the Slayer."  
  
"WHAT?" Ms. Summers said.  
  
D'Hoffryn continued. "Ms. Rosenberg was a powerful witch. Is any of this resonating?"  
  
"What do you mean, I was the Slayer?" Ms. Summers demanded. "I went around killing vampires and demons?"  
  
Cordelia said, "Shut up, would you. Just. Shut. Up. You've been whining and moaning ever since this started --"  
  
"Hold on a moment," Mr. Giles said. "Ms. Summers, how do you know what a Slayer does?" The roaring got louder.  
  
"You must have explained it."  
  
"I did no such thing. Neither did Mr. Wyndham-Price. Now answer the question."  
  
"I know what a Slayer is . . . because I AM one." The last four words were said confidently. "I am Buffy. The Vampire Slayer."  
  
"YES!" D'Hoffryn said, and as the roaring got even more unbearable they  
  
* * * * *  
  
And suddenly the roaring was gone, and the chaos as well, and only three beings stood atop Ayers Rock.  
  
"What happened?" Mr. Doyle asked. "What's going on? Where'd everyone go?"  
  
The Priestess, who could finally drop her shield, said, "I don't know." She looked at D'Hoffryn. "What happened?"  
  
"I told you," he said. "That two of you had died in the restored universe."  
  
"And we're the two," Mr. Doyle said.  
  
"Just so."  
  
"So, so why didn't we wink out of existence?" the Priestess asked.  
  
"Kicks?" Mr. Doyle asked.  
  
"No," D'Hoffryn said. "I'm simply still protecting this small part of the old timeline. Call it a lingering sense of justice on my part. The others had lives to return to. It didn't seem right to let you simply wink out of existence without so much as a chance to say your farewells."  
  
"Farewell to who?" Mr. Doyle said. "You? Each other?"  
  
"Life," D'Hoffryn said.  
  
Tara turned to Doyle. "I can feel it. Can't you? I can feel my life coming back."  
  
Doyle closed his eyes. "That I can, lass. Apparently I died a hero."  
  
She looked at him and said, "I was loved."  
  
Doyle shrugged. "That's the most any of us can hope for." They began to turn translucent, then transparent.  
  
D'Hoffryn watched them fade, and then, as the figure of Drusilla faded in, took a step backwards. The vampiress looked up, startled. "No fair," she said. "You moved!" The field of the artifact which had, in another timeline, kept him imprisoned for seventeen years, glowed for but a few seconds; D'Hoffryn set it on fire.  
  
Drusilla, confused, said, "What happened?"  
  
"I burned your magical doll, and by all rights I should do the same to you," D'Hoffryn said. "Your plans, and your vengeance, have failed."  
  
She straightened. "Yes, I can tell that. All that perfection gone to waste." Then she turned, as if to go.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" D'Hoffryn asked.  
  
"I can read even you," Drusilla said. "I can sense your anger; it burns like the body of a child. But you can't violate the rules; even the leader isn't allowed to make his own wishes. And you, you're all subtle like a mouse stealing food in front of a hungry cat. You won't crunch and rend."  
  
"This is true," D'Hoffryn said. "And so, you are right; for the moment there shall be no vengeance." Just before he left to return to Arashmaharr, he said, "However. You have been a vampire for over a century. Certainly there are those left alive who would like to take their vengeance on you. Rest assured: I will find them."  
  
"I look forward to it," Drusilla said. 


End file.
